


Shit Is So Fucked

by TheWanderingNine



Series: The Hobbit-verse [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Gen, IDK I'm new to this sorry, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Summarized Slow Build, fluff?, if that makes sense, movie-verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:12:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 31,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1577999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingNine/pseuds/TheWanderingNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ira's a twenty-two year old highschool drop out whose biggest achievement in life thus far is being kicked out of her parent's place to barely make rent in a one bedroom apartment. Let's dump her in Middle Earth to see how a twenty-first century girl copes with living in a world where the events of The Hobbit movie are real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Uh

**Author's Note:**

> Everything in this fic is from the point of view of Ira, our poor modern American girl. This story is written with the purpose of everything not being described or shown considering Ira herself is a bit of a simplistic, rude, airhead type girl. I also apologize for any OOC-ness. Thoughts on making situations/characters more 'real', critiques, and opinions are welcome.

The first thing she noticed on waking up was how warm it was. The second, when opening her eyes, was how bright everything seemed. Squinting them shut instantly she leaned up, and under her hands she felt cool, long grass.

The third thing she noticed was she was not in her room.

“What the fuck?”


	2. Worst Joke Ever

“Pardon, Miss?” someone said. 

Ira, however, was a bit distracted at the moment. Looking around she saw she was sat on the ground outside somewhere, but it was not a place she'd ever been before. Rolling hills in the distance, flower gardens here and there, people going about their business pulling along children or guiding animals tethered to carts carrying what-have-you. Pretty, but still, what the hell?

“Miss?” they said again a little louder. Then they cleared their throat to get her attention.

“Huh?” she said, looking around for whoever it was. Some old guy dressed in gray robes standing a little ways from where she sat.

And a pointy hat. Wooden staff. No fucking way.

“Are you alright?” he asked, and fuck her sideways if he didn't sound, _look_ , exactly the same as from the movies.

“You've gotta be shittin' me,” she said. His eyebrows rose up, disappearing under that pointy hat of his. He shifted his stance a bit and regarded her shrewdly.

“If it is of any comfort I can assure you you are not being shat at this moment,” he said. She chuckled nervously, running a hand through her hair.

“Yeah, okay. You got me there. Let me guess; Gandalf the Gray, right?” she said, looking around her again. This was stupid. This was the best damn prank anyone could have ever pulled on her. Which was the _only_ explanation for this, by the way.

“Indeed. And you would be?”

“My name's Ira.” She stared back up at him, squinting in the bright sun. There was no way that could actually be the actor for Gandalf. “You look just like him. How much make-up did it take to do that?”

“I'm afraid I don't know what you mean,” Gandalf said lightly. Yeah, right. “Your appearance is rather curious. How came you to be in the Shire? And in such a state of undress.”

“What?” Staring down at her clothes she couldn't tell what he meant. She was as dressed as any one could be in a tank-top and jeans cut into shorts. “This is really awesome and all, but the joke is so over. Who did this? Where am I really?”

“My dear girl, you don't know? That is troubling.” He leaned forward, offering her a hand up. Ira glared at him, but took his hand anyways, and was helped up with ease. For an old looking guy he was stronger than she would have guessed.

“Thanks. You can drop the act, though. I'm impressed already. Where am I?”

“The Shire, as I've said,” Gandalf sighed.

“I heard that, but unless this is the realest dream I have _ever_ had, that is pretty much impossible.”

“It is safe to say that you are not dreaming, Miss Ira, but it is the truth nonetheless. How, pray tell, would it be impossible?”

“Because this place _isn't real_. Like, it _doesn't exist_. I'm so over this. Kudos to your effort, dude. I'm outta here,” she said, turning and walking away.

Ira made it several paces from where she woke, and so far everything looked genuine. Nobody was waiting behind a tree or grassy hill for her to find laughing at her expense. The people, good fucking God, actually looked like hobbits. Short, curly haired and cute. They all eyed her curiously as she walked. Like they'd never really seen anyone as tall as her, except maybe Gandalf.

“Ira! Ira, my dear girl, come back,” Gandalf was saying, walking quickly towards her. Oh, hell no.

“I said I am so over this, dude. Unless you're ganna tell me what the fuck is going on here, beat it,” she growled, turning back to glare at him.

Gandalf frowned pretty spectacularly at her. It actually made her feel sort of contrite, but this was so not funny. “Where did you come from, that you are so unfamiliar and ignorant of this place?”

“Uh,” she said. “America? I'm American. You got an accent, but I better still be in my own damn country. Am I being filmed for some kind of weird fantasy snuff porn?” Ira said jokingly. Gandalf shook his head at her.

“I don't understand half of the things you say. I have little time, and yet I cannot just leave you on your own. If what you are saying is true...” he trailed off. Okay, so he was as cryptic in person as he was in the movies.

“I'm not lying!” Ira snapped, affronted. A nearby hobbit looked at her in alarm, then scurried off to mind his own business.

“Then you must come with me.” Nodding, Gandalf gestured in the opposite direction from where she'd been going and started off that way.

“Uh, like hell, man.”

“I do not have time for this. I will not harm you, if that is your concern.” He stopped long enough to give her an irritated look, and then kept walking.

“Fuck off,” Ira said, flipping him the bird for good measure. She spun on her heel, and started walking away again, but she only got a few steps before she felt an arm slip around her middle and hoist her up.

“Stop struggling,” Gandalf said.

“Let me go! What the fuck?” Ira screeched, thrashing. “Where the hell are you going? Put me down!”

“Bag End,” was all Gandalf said. Ira stilled for a moment, letting that sink in.

“What the fuck,” she said again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually do not believe Gandalf would man-handle her as he did. But, uh, oh well, I guess.


	3. Wait A Minute

_Bilbo Baggins_. This was nuts. She'd gone crazy. Ira loved The Lord of the Rings like most people, but not enough to get lost in some quasi-fantasy land like it. This wasn't even the Lord of the Rings yet from what she knew. The Hobbit's second movie only just came out in theaters a month or so ago.

Gandalf had set her back down on her feet when she'd quieted and stilled. Aside from the embarrassment she wasn't hurt, so whatever. Old Man Kidnapper was pretty strong to just lift her up onto his shoulder with one arm, so she figured if he wanted to hurt her he'd have already done it just to shut her up.

Bilbo fucking Baggins though. Right there in front of her. He looked just like the actor that played him in the movies, too. Martin Freeman? She wasn't good with actor and actress's names, just the characters they play, but she was pretty sure that was his name at least. He was short, maybe coming up to her stomach. It was so weird just to look at him.

Ira had seen the movies plenty enough times (thank you Internet bootleggers) so she had pretty much everything memorized. The exchange between Gandalf and Bilbo in the beginning wasn't so interesting, so she opted to tune it out in favor of her own thoughts. The important questions asked, y'know, like what the hell was going on. How did she even get here. How this could so not be real and yet everything totally seemed like it was. She'd never had a hallucination before, and her dreams were never this realistic. So seriously, what the hell?

“And I will leave Miss Ira here in your good hands, hm? She's had a bit of a misadventure, but I must see to other things,” Gandalf's voice came through her ears. Wait a minute, that wasn't part of the dialogue in the movie.

“What?” she blurted. Good one, Ira.

“I'm leaving you here with Master Baggins. Do not worry, I shall return, and when I do we will see what we can find out about your situation,” was all he said before turning and making his way down the stone walkway.

“Wait, hang on. But you didn't even mark the door!” Or did he? She wasn't paying attention, and she was standing next to it with Bilbo, who was looking at her strangely. He eyed his door, but there was nothing on it.

“...Right, well. You seem a bit out of it,” Bilbo hedged, his wooden pipe held up to his mouth, but he wasn't puffing. “Come on in. Gandalf said you were stranded for the moment.”

“...Right,” was all Ira could think to say.


	4. It's A Small World After All

Bag End was pretty nice, the size notwithstanding. Like, almost literally. She had to hunch forward so she didn't hit her head on anything. Outright crouch to get through archways and doors. It looked just like what she'd seen in the movies, too. Everything did. The best she could figure was there are supposedly alternate universes where if it's a possibility in one universe then it was a reality in another. Guess there are actual movie-verses somewhere out there.

Which was cool for about thirty seconds before she understood that, if this was real, and if she didn't get the fuck home before shit started hitting fans, she was going to die here in movie-verse land.

Bilbo was a sweetie. He made her up some snacks; bread rolls, and offered her some tiny fruits at a small dinner table, which was where she was sat at the moment. She rested her chin on her knees (the chairs were that low to the ground for her) while she got lost in thought.

Recap, she thought. Gandalf left Bilbo's, so tonight the dwarves should arrive. Things were ganna get exciting, Bilbo's ganna blow a gasket, and then they'll be gone in the morning. The question was, what was going to happen to her?

Will she stay in Bag End while Bilbo goes off to help kill a dragon? Gandalf wasn't due to die until his fight with that monster, the Balrog thing, in the Fellowship, so she supposed if she sat tight long enough he would get around to figuring out what the hell happened to her. But how long would that be? 

“Um,” Bilbo said next to her, breaking her out of her thoughts. She looked over at him, and saw he was holding something out to her.

“Sorry, did you say something?” 

“Here,” Bilbo said, holding up what was in his hands. Ira took them from him, and saw they were folded clothes. “They're all I have, I'm afraid.”

“What're these for?” Ira asked, separating an item of clothing from the small pile in her lap. It looked like a vest.

“Well, I can't imagine you want to be going about in your small-clothes...” Was all he said before he scurried off, eyes averted to the ground.

It took her a few minutes to realize small-clothes must mean underwear here. _Oh_. 

She figured her tank-top could supposedly look like a shift? Or something.

Ira changed in the guest bedroom Bilbo showed her to earlier, after Gandalf left her stranded here. The bed was too small for her to lie in, but she sat on it while she undressed to change. The clothes Bilbo gave her looked to be men's hobbit clothes. She remembered the women wore those Renaissance Faire looking dresses while the men wore capri pants, and puffy shirts with fancy vests. 

The pants were uncomfortably snug around her hips and thighs, but since she got the buttons closed (all five of them), and it was all she had, it would just have to do. The shirt was okay, she supposed. She didn't have much of a chest to speak of, so no problems with fitting there. The sleeves were too short, of course, and the shoulders were tight. But the vest fit, and she wasn't in her underwear anymore, according to the locals. So whatever.

Bilbo sputtered and laughed at her when she came out in the clothes he gave her. Ira supposed she must look funny, someone almost twice his size wearing clothes too small for her.

“Ha ha,” she said, grinning. “You got a camera? We could take a picture.”

Bilbo gave her a confused look. “Camera?”

“Nevermind,” Ira said. Middle Earth didn't have stuff like that. Right.


	5. It's Like Live-Action Or Something

She felt really bad for Bilbo. The dwarves were beginning to arrive and raid his pantry just like, you guessed it, in the movies. Dwalin? The first one to arrive, and take Bilbo's supper. Ira scowled at him while she shared her plate with Bilbo. Dwalin scowled right back.

Ira kept as out of the way as humanly possible considering the place was filling with dwarves, and she was already big enough to occupy a lot of space just by being, well, double the size of a hobbit. She watched as Bilbo flitted about, making his mind known and nobody paying him any mind of theirs. The dwarves eyed her curiously and suspiciously. She wondered if Gandalf let them know there'd be a wayward human girl at Bag End for their Very Important Meeting.

“Ye look ridiculous,” one of them said. She forgot which one was which outside of Dwalin, Thorin, Kili, Fili and Balin.

“Couldn't keep that to yourself, could you?” she muttered. He didn't seem to care about her lame retort, and wandered off in search of more pilfered food.

Gandalf tossed her some looks once in a while, like he was making sure she hadn't run off during all the commotion. She'd come to the conclusion earlier that evening that her best chance of getting back to her own universe, or dimension, or whatever, was if Gandalf could come up with something. Ira didn't see how anyone else could really help, so no, she wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

“Aren't you hungry, Miss?” a dwarf asked near her, holding out a plate of food. Ira blinked, and took the plate, smiling a little shyly.

“Thanks,” she said, and he beamed at her before waddling off. Well, okay, they weren't all assholes, she supposed. Since she already ate earlier she wasn't all that hungry, but she picked at the food on her plate since that dwarf was so nice to have thought about her.

“Ye hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives,” someone crowed. Oh, she loved this part. Ira hurried across the room to get a better view of the dining table to watch the dwarves sing, and do that stunt with the dishes.

She ended up hugging a wall, afraid a stray plate might catch her upside the head, but the movie didn't really do them justice. Or maybe being there in person for it just had a bigger impact. She was grinning and laughing all the while.

Then Thorin showed up, and it was all business from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT on 6/29/14: So, turns out Thorin does eat after all. Just changed the last bit to correspond correctly.


	6. Wrong Race, Dude

“Nobody told me there'd be an elf here,” Thorin growled. He was staring at Ira with an angry frown.

Uh, what?

“Dude, you think _I'm_ an elf?” Ira said, her face scrunching up. Thorin looked her over again, and this time when he looked at her face he was a little more hesitant. “Um, _no_. So not an elf. Round ears, see?”

She tucked her hair behind an ear, and turned her head so Thorin could get a clear look. How he'd ever mistaken her for an elf she'd probably never know.

All Thorin did was vaguely acknowledge her status as Not Elf with a grunt before he unloaded his gear beside him, and stomped away.

It was getting really warm in there with all the bodies and moving about. She parked herself next to an open window, and eavesdropped on the conversation being had about their adventure. Afterwards she planned on monopolizing Gandalf to discuss her own situation while Bilbo thought on his status as a burglar. 

They were at it for a while, actually. It didn't seem to take long at all watching it in a movie, but she supposed she didn't have the luxury of cameras cutting time off switching scenes. Eventually she saw an unconscious Bilbo being carted to another room, the one with the fireplace in it, and plopped down in a big chair. He wasn't out for long, though, and so she continued waiting.

The evening mellowed out after that. Bilbo argued with Gandalf, inevitably declining, and the dwarves were pretty somber and quiet. They loitered about, holding pipes in their hands while they made soft small-talk. Ira figured now was the best time to waylay Gandalf.

“Ira, my dear, what troubles you?” he asked when she approached him. She gestured vaguely to the side, and went that way, hoping for as much privacy as possible considering. Gandalf followed.

“Look, I'm willing to accept that all this is real now. But that just means I've got bigger problems. I don't belong here, and I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can help me get back,” she said, almost all at once. As silly as it sounded to her Gandalf's expression was anything but amused. Ira fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

“I am troubled by your predicament, however... To be frank, Ira, I haven't a clue what to do. To my knowledge this has never happened before.” At Ira's crestfallen look Gandalf reached out a hand to on her shoulder.

“But... Gandalf, you... I mean,” she stuttered, and all of a sudden everything was too much. It hit her like a wave. Her nose burned, and tears pricked her eyes. In an effort to keep from crying Ira bit her lip. When that didn't work she just gave in, and began to cry.

“There there, dear,” Gandalf tried soothing, his voice low and sympathetic. He pulled a handkerchief from somewhere she couldn't see, and offered it to her. Ira gave him a puzzled look, shaking her head no, and sniffled loudly while he put the kerchief away. “If there is anything you can tell me about how you came to be here, anything at all?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice wobbly from crying. “I went to bed, and woke up in the grass. That's it. Nothing weird or anything happened that day. I wasn't sick or feeling bad. I just... Went to sleep, and woke up in a Goddamn movie.”

“I do not know what a movie is, but I can promise you I will try to help you. There is someone I know who might be able to help as well, though it will take time to ask him. I'm going to be rather busy as of late, as I'm sure you heard,” and Gandalf sounded a little amused now. Ira looked up to see him smiling good naturedly. So he knew she'd been eavesdropping. Well, she hadn't been sneaky about it. Oh well.

“I hope you don't mean Saruman,” Ira sniffed again, and caught Gandalf's sharpened gaze on her.

“Tell me, Ira... You mentioned earlier that, to you, this place wasn't real. How, then, do you know of it? And of Saruman?”

“It's just a fantasy where I come from,” Ira explained. “They were books, and then they made them into movies. Movies are... Uh, they're moving pictures people watch for entertainment. I've seen all this before.” She took a deep breath. This sounded totally nuts.

“You've seen this? You know what's going to happen?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I mean, I didn't read the books or see the third movie, it's not out yet. I just saw up to Smog's escape.”

“Smaug,” Gandalf corrected distractedly. He had a very pensive expression on his face, Ira noticed. Okay, so a strange girl wakes up in the Shire, and claims to know what's going to happen. That is a stretch.

“You believe me, don't you?” she asked in a small voice. She'd stopped crying by now, but the thought of hearing him maybe say no put her on the brink of tears again.

“It is quite a claim, and yet... Yes, I believe you, Ira. And I will do all within my power to help, but for now...” Gandalf glanced towards where the dwarves were clustered some ways away. They'd began singing in low voices now. It actually sounded really nice.

“Yeah, I get it. Pressing mountain matters and all. I know.” And she did. “But Gandalf... What am I supposed to do while you're all off on this quest of yours?”


	7. What Was That Saying About Feet?

“Oh, _hell_ no!”

Gandalf didn't have an answer for her last night. Now that it was morning, and he'd had time to think on it, the best one he could apparently come up with was, 'well, you'll come along until I figure it out'.

So not happening.

“Gandalf, I don't think you understand,” Ira started. They were all outside, some ways from Bag End, and a still sleeping Bilbo. She was only out there to say goodbye. “I'm just a girl, okay? I can't fight. I can't cook, or hunt, or, or... I just can't do anything, okay? I can't go with you guys.” No doubt feminists around the world back home were cringing right now.

“Surely you are not so helpless?” Gandalf asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Ira snorted.

“In my world that kinda stuff is recreational. They do it as a hobby, not a way of life. I've never killed anything. Well, okay, bugs don't count. I can't draw a bow, or swing a sword, is my point. I eat microwavable dinners. Nevermind, you don't know what a microwave is. I just can't, okay?”

Things were awkward and quiet now. The dwarves were eying her with looks ranging from irritation to pity. She almost flipped them off. So what if she couldn't survive in the fucking wild, she never _needed_ to. Gandalf heaved a great sigh.

“Neither has Bilbo, has he? And yet...”

Ira narrowed her eyes at him. “Clever, but it's not the same.”

“No?” was all he said. Gandalf smiled kindly at her, bid her goodbye, and then mounted up on his horse. The dwarves not already mounted on their own ponies did so too, and just like that they were all off. A couple turned back to wave goodbye, and Ira waved back, but now what?

Well, back inside, she supposed. They still had a little ways to go before Bilbo would wake up and change his mind. Maybe he'd let her stay in Bag End while he went off to break into a mountain. It was a long shot, but it was all she could come up with.

Inside Bag End Ira made up some tea. She'd watched Bilbo make it yesterday, and figured why not, maybe he'd want a cup when he woke up. She wanted something to do mostly, but hey, the tea here was pretty good, too. With a little honey anyways.

Bilbo was up sooner than she thought he'd be. He took the tea she offered, said thanks, and went about the place like he was in a daze. Ira saw the dwarves had cleaned up before they'd left. The place looked almost untouched, which was impressive considering the natural disaster everything was last night.

“They've all gone then?” he asked quietly when he came back, and took a seat across from her.

“Yeah,” she said, and they both sipped their tea in silence.

“What happens now?” Bilbo blurted suddenly. Ira looked up, and saw him blink, like he hadn't really meant to say it. It just sort of came out.

“Whatever you want, I suppose.” She wasn't sure what all she could say. Ira really didn't want to... she didn't know, change history or some cliché shit like that. What if she said something that made Bilbo not go after all?

“Right...”

He stood then, and wandered away from the table, leaving his cup behind. It was quiet save for the birdsong that came in through the windows. Ira finished her tea, and washed her cup out, having to rest on her knees otherwise be bent over double just to reach the sink. She went ahead and washed Bilbo's cup out, too, assuming it must be getting close to time for him to change his mind.

“I'm going,” she heard him say once, then again a little louder; more excitedly. He came back into the room hurriedly with his contract in hand, looking around for a moment, and then moving on to another room.

Bilbo went around Bag End like someone lit a fire under his ass, stuffing things into his pockets and a little pack. Ira watched nervously, wondering when she could ask him if she could just stay here while he was away. She followed him around as he went, eventually pausing in his room where he started rolling up a blanket and putting it to his pack he was making.

“Did you see which way they went?” he asked, scanning about for something he might have missed, and muttering to himself over what all he'd need. 

“Yeah, but I dunno what direction it was,” she said. Bilbo gave her a confused look and then carried his pack out to the entrance way. Ira followed again. “Bilbo...”

“Can you show me? Hurry, they've a head start,” he said, not really listening. Ira sighed, and went outside with him, snatching a pretty square piece of clothe off his desk on her way. Bilbo locked his door, then spun around to take off at a run.

“Hang on a second!” Ira called, but Bilbo kept going. She made a frustrated sound and ran after him.


	8. Cars Are A Blessing People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major spoiler for a possible (probable) outcome for the third movie in this chapter.

Ira was so out of breath by the time they caught up she missed Balin welcoming Bilbo into the company. When she was done wheezing to get enough air she looked up to see a couple dwarves helping Bilbo up onto his pony. Then she looked over to Gandalf.

“Well, I suppose it can't be helped,” he said, his eyes crinkled in a smile. A smug smile, she thought it was. “You can ride with me until we get you a horse of your own.”

“Wait a minute - “

“Gandalf?”

“Now see here - ”

“Wha' - ”

It was a cacophony of voices for a few moments before Gandalf bellowed his authority. Thorin brought his pony up next to Gandalf's horse with a stern look on his face.

“Gandalf, the girl cannot come. We have not the means for another in the company, and still she is less equipped to handle this quest than even your burglar,” he declared. Apparently one untried member was enough, two was out of the question.

“Yeah,” Ira agreed weakly. 

“I will brook no argument on this matter.”

Ira guessed if you were a wizard then pretty much your word was law. The dwarves were none too happy about this. Someone brought up the issue of her not having a contract, and therefore could not officially join the company, so she would receive no reward nor the privileges that came with an old piece of parchment with fancy handwriting on it. She didn't want any gold. She just wanted to get home, and away from the possibility of being eaten alive by wargs. Her best bet was still hanging on Gandalf doing or figuring something out, though, so she did end up getting on that horse after all.

It was embarrassing having so much trouble just getting up onto a horse, but now they were on their way. Ira watched as the dwarves pulled out coins to count and place in small pouches. Then they became air born.

“What's that about?” Bilbo asked next to her and Gandalf.

“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up,” Gandalf said. “Most of them didn't think you would.”

“And what did you think?”

Gandalf didn't say anything for a moment, letting Bilbo's question hang in the air. Ira was tempted to call him out on stringing poor Bilbo along but didn't. Instead she tried to shrink down as much as possible so she didn't get hit with any coins when they were tossed in three... two... one...

Gandalf's hand reached up, catching the bag thrown at him in the blink of an eye. He chuckled. “My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.”

Then Bilbo sneezed. Horse hair, right. She was ready for this moment.

“Stop,” Bilbo said. “Stop! We have to turn around.” And everyone stopped to see what the deal was. “I forgot my handkerchief.”

“Bilbo,” Ira said, pulling something out of her vest pocket. It was the square clothe she snagged as she was leaving. “Here.”

Bilbo gave her a quizzical look, but took it and said his thanks. “Nevermind,” he called, and everyone continued again.

“You knew...” Gandalf said quietly so only Ira could hear. She turned her head to try and regard him but, couldn't see him at all. Still, she knew his attention was on her.

“Yep,” was all she said. If Gandalf ever had any doubts about whether or not she'd been lying now he knew otherwise.

“I'm afraid, Bilbo Baggins, we cannot afford to turn back for small things such as forgotten handkerchiefs. You'll simply have to learn to do without such things in the future,” Gandalf then said, his focus back on Bilbo.

The journey after that scene in the movie was cut, if Ira remembered right. That must mean nothing significant happens between now and... the trolls. Oh, God. What was she going to do during all that? For that matter, what was she going to do during the giant rock people? The fucking goblins? Azog? Shit.

What if she didn't make it all the way to the end of the story? She technically doesn't exist in this world... She didn't think her death would really matter. Her grip in the horse's mane tightened with this thought.

They started out quiet, but as they all rode on the dwarves became sort of bored, she'd have to guess, so they were striking up conversations to the ones near them. A song or two broke out at one point, and Ira had to admit to herself she did like them. They were funny and fun to watch in the movies, but they were still just characters on a screen. In person they had substance; they were actual people. Short, thick, hairy people with terrible table manners but good intentions. She watched them carry on, joking and laughing, and smiled to herself.

She was looking at the two younger brothers, Fili and Kili, as they rode next to each other, and were telling a funny story. Fili glanced over, a big grin on his face, and they made eye contact. It was then that she remembered reading online that him and Kili die in the end, and she had to tear her eyes away, her brows furrowed with that knowledge.

Their first bathroom break was mortifying. Being the only female in the entire group she had to go off on her own to find a spot and hunker down to piss in the dirt. Christ, she didn't have any toilet paper, and she had no idea if the plants around here were safe to use on her crotch. What would she use when she had to take a shit? Surely Gandalf and the others had _something_ for that at least. The thought of asking made her want to curl up in a ball and turn into a rock, but she'd have to suck it up if she wanted something to wipe her ass with.

Not to mention she was on her period. At least she had her trusty moon cup, so she wouldn't have to worry about pads or tampons. Thank you, technology.

“Gandalf...” she hedged quietly once she'd returned to the group. Back at her out doorsy bathroom spot she'd broken down and just used some low hanging tree leaves. They didn't hold a candle next to some actual toilet paper, of course, but it was better than nothing. “What... That is, um. Do you guys have an extra roll of toilet paper?”

“Toilet paper?” he repeated, confused. Okay, so they don't call it that here.

“You know, what you use to... Um, wipe with?” Ira's face felt so hot she was sure it had to be as red as a cliché tomato.

“You use paper where you're from? How strange. But yes, we have what you're referring to. Simply ask when next you need it, hm?” Gandalf made his way back to his horse with a little shake of his head.

“It's not actual paper,” Ira muttered at him, even though he was out of ear shot.

“Enough dawdling! Mount up and move on,” Thorin called, and everyone was on the way again just like that.

Ira was fine on the horse at first, but after several hours of riding her ass felt like she'd been gang-banged in her sleep. Her back ached and her head hurt, too. Being that Gandalf was, first and foremost, a total stranger, and not to mention some two-thousand give-or-take years old, she forced herself to sit as straight as possible in that saddle. The urge to just lean back and give her spine a rest was so tempting she could cry, but how awkward would that be, y'know? So she didn't.

When the sun was finally beginning to set, and twilight was creeping up on them Thorin declared a little secluded spot next to a rocky ledge their camp site. The dwarves dismounted their ponies with ease, Bilbo a little stiffly but nonetheless all on his own. Gandalf slid from the saddle, and made to move away from his horse, but...

“Gandalf,” Ira called, gritting her teeth. She honestly didn't think she could move her legs right now. “I... need help.”

“Never ridden before, have we?” Gandalf asked, his tone indicating he was amused. Ira shot him a withering look, taking Gandalf's hand when offered, but she still didn't move. “My dear Ira, you will need to swing your leg over.”

“I know that,” she snapped, trying to brace herself. She concentrated on slow movements at first, and even those were difficult.

It took several more moments before she was out of the saddle and off the horse. The second her feet touched the ground she crumpled down into a heap in the sparse patches of grass, groaning softly to herself.

“That one's ganna have a time of it come the morn',” she heard a dwarf say, and she flashed him her middle finger.

“Fuck you, shorty,” she snapped. Ira slowly hauled herself back up into a slouched sitting position, and when she looked up she saw several dwarves either looking at each other or at her. “What?”

“'S nothin', really. Jus' we've nae heard a Daughter of Man ever speak thus. It's a bit strange,” a brown haired dwarf said. She couldn't remember his name. He was the one with the crazy three fin looking hair-do.

“Wait, please tell me you guys understand what I'm saying? I'm not going to have to translate or something, am I?” Maybe they don't have the same kind of slang. They never really cussed in the movies that she remembered.

“Aye, we know what ye mean when ye say fuck, but good lasses dunnae speak so crudely,” another dwarf said.

“Maybe I'm not a good lass, then,” Ira grumbled, and laid back on the ground. It made her spine feel loads better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember Sigrid using the term toilet in Desolation of Smaug, but nobody calls the toilet paper, well, toilet paper, and I took liberties with semantics here. I'm assuming Gandalf thinks Ira is referring to parchment when she says paper.


	9. Did She Just Make Some Friends? Huh

Balin, one of the few dwarves she did remember better, was in story-telling mode. She knew what he'd say, but hearing it in person was somehow better. For his part Thorin played the silent, loner-looking brood king really well while Balin waxed poetic about him. Ira was as close to the fire as humanly possible without being in any real danger of setting her clothes on fire. She wore her shoes, which thankfully made the trip to Middle Earth with her, but once night had fallen so had the temperature. By a fuck ton, if she was going to try estimating. When Thorin mentioned Azog having died long ago she glanced nervously up at Gandalf, and he seemed to share her thoughts. No, Azog was definitely not dead.

“You alright there, lass?” Kili asked, being one of the other dwarves by the fire. Ira nodded stiffly and pursed her lips.

She didn't have any supplies. Thorin wasn't being a (complete) douche when he said they wouldn't be able to accommodate an extra body. All she had on her were the clothes she was spirited away with, and the ones she wore now, given to her by Bilbo. Everyone else had their packs, which only held enough stuff for themselves or the trip. Ira was honestly very unprepared.

“Here,” Fili said, dropping a coarse wool blanket over her shoulders. She blinked up at him, and opened her mouth to protest, but Fili beat her to it. “None of that, now. Dwarves are hardy people, and I can share Kili's if I really need to. You look frozen over so you take it this night.”

“Thank you, Fili," she said gratefully. He blinked in surprise, probably since she knew his name, and then smiled. Ira wrapped the blanket about her more securely and stayed close to the fire. Nevermind that it smelled like musty dwarf dude and horse.

“Come t'think of it we were never properly introduced, were we?” the youngest dwarf said. Ori, she thought. He was the one to bring her that plate of food.

“No, I never answered the door at Bag End. Ira, at your service,” she mimicked, the corner of her mouth upturned in amusement. It got a few chuckles out of some of the company, and the more personable dwarves re-introduced themselves to her.

Then, to Ira's eternal dismay, Thorin ordered the fire to be put out. The moon lit the ground up a bit, but without the fire she was still mostly blind. While everyone was bedding down she felt out a spot by a rock wall and curled up against it, hoping it'd help block the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet! Also who hasn't fallen asleep with their shoes on at least once in their life? Might want to do that more often; You never know when you'll wake up in a movie-verse world.


	10. American Culture 101 (As Done Poorly By Yours Truly)

“By Mahal - Oin!” Ira heard someone shout. She was so tired though; too tired to care enough to crack her eyes open or move. “Oin, come quick! Miss Ira, she's cold as snow.”

Ira felt a large, hot pressure against her hand, and then on her cheek. Assuming she wasn't going to be getting any chances to go back to sleep (when has anyone on an adventure ever woken up and gone back to sleep? Never, that's when), she scrunched her face up, and blinked in the morning sun.

“She's alive,” Oin said, sighing.

“'Course 'm alive. Why wouldn't I be?” she muttered, sleep slurred speech and all.

“You're as cold as a corpse, lass. Gave us a right scare ye did,” Oin got to his feet and toddled off to finish whatever it was he was up to before they thought she'd died in the night.

“Sorry,” Ira murmured, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. And yeah, she was very cold. There was only so much a single blanket outside at night was going to do for her. Now that she was more awake, and started moving, her teeth chattered.

“Eat up, lass. We've a long ways to go yet, an' time's a wastin'.” A bowl of steaming broth was held under her nose so she took it. She muttered her thanks, and set to sipping at it slowly, trying not to burn her lips or mouth too much.

When she was finished she was quite a bit warmer. Her teeth had stopped chattering, at least. She reluctantly stretched out her stiff, sore muscles, knowing today was going to be twice as bad. The second day was always the worst, right? For the time being she focused on folding up Fili's blanket, and finding him to give it back.

“Thanks again, Fili,” she said. He nodded at her, and flashed her a slightly apologetic smile as he undid her work on the blanket to roll it up properly and stow it away in his pack.

Making her way to Gandalf she said good morning to those who were nice enough to greet her. The wizard was off a ways having a private chat with Thorin. She lingered back a bit, _mostly_ out of ear shot, but she didn't miss everything that was said. Thorin threw some looks her way, and that definitely got her attention alright.

“...tell me she has these capabilities...

...to mention she is sorely unprepared for a venture such as...

…cannot guarantee her safety...”

Like a good little lass (she snorted at this thought) Ira hung back to allow them to finish. Her arms crossed over her chest, and a frown on her face, she waited until Thorin apparently concluded their conversation, stomping away from Gandalf and back towards camp.

“Thorin,” she said quietly enough for just him to hear when he came close enough. “I can pretty much assume your feelings on my presence, but let's be polite here. If you've got anything to say about me, say it to my face next time.”

Thorin scowled spectacularly at her, but said nothing as he made the rest of his way back to camp. Ira huffed in annoyance. She knew Thorin was a tough cracker just from the way he treated Bilbo up until he literally saved his dwarfy life, but Ira didn't see a break for her in this case. She was not brave enough to jump in front of an orc.

“Gandalf, can I talk to you for a second?” she asked, making her way over to him. He raised an eyebrow at her. He certainly did that a lot.

“You have a strange way of saying things that I must assume aren't literal,” he said. “But by all means, what troubles you?”

“When do you think we'll reach the elves?” Ira asked. Gandalf chanced a glance behind her at the dwarves to make sure they hadn't heard. “Yeah, I know what you're planning, but how long will it take?”

“We have quite a ways to go yet, Miss Ira. Do you have pressing business with them, if I might ask?” 

“Well, sort of. I was kind of hoping they'd help me out. I'm pretty bad off for this adventure. I don't even have a blanket. Fili had to lend me his, and as much as I appreciate the gesture I don't want to be a charity case more than strictly... necessary,” she said, scuffing the toe of her shoe in the dirt. “Maybe they'll have clothes that fit me, too.”

“Yes, I daresay that would be an improvement. We've many days of travel, at least, until we come to the borders of Rivendell. So I'm afraid you'll have to continue to borrow from those kind enough to share.” At least he did sound apologetic and sincere this time.

“Terrific,” Ira muttered.

Onward they inevitably went. Ira had fun getting up onto the horse again, and her aching backside and spine were a constant presence in her mind. They seldom stopped. Maybe if the ponies needed a break. For food, thank God. Bathroom breaks of course. Anything outside of those didn't warrant a stop for the first few days. The nights were as cold as that first one, and at this point at least two dwarves a night were lending her their blankets. Oin was afraid she'd simply freeze to death while they all slept, which prompted the sharing more than anything else.

By then Ira was feeling absolutely terrible. She'd been losing sleep, either from being too cold to pass out, or from growing up her whole life with the luxury of a soft mattress to lie on. The ground, sometimes grassy, sometimes rocky, was a far cry from anything resembling a cozy bed. Her body had been trying to make up for it by dozing off on the horse. She would startled awake, and realize she'd been sleeping against Gandalf. He didn't seem to begrudge her, at least. Ira wondered if she had circles under her eyes making her case for her.

Then there was the matter of personal hygiene. After several days of traveling, and not having a hot shower, she could smell herself. She was so embarrassed about this she apologized to Gandalf every time she mounted back up on his horse with him after a break. He assured her he couldn't even hardly smell anything untoward with her, but she wasn't fooled. If she could smell herself, then everyone else could, too.

“Don't look now, lads!” someone from the front of the line called. Gloin, she thought. He was the one with a reddish brown beard. “We've a stream up ahead.”

This elicited a cheer from a lot of the company for some reason. Ira looked around her in confusion.

“A chance to wash up,” Gandalf supplied helpfully. This perked Ira up better than any sunshine would for the world's most wilted flower.

“God yes,” she sighed happily.

They all dismounted and unloaded their supplies. Bath time was apparently a long ordeal as Oin and Gloin got a fire going. Ira did as much as she could to help, which was hardly anything at all really. She couldn't hunt or skin a kill, and she didn't really know how to cook things over a fire, but she gathered wood and stones for the pit.

“Ah, not to be forward or nothin',” Balin spoke up suddenly, “but how are we to go about this? With the lass in our company, I mean.”

“Good question...”

“I don't see why she can't -”

“Don't even go there -”

“This is why ye dunnae have a girl in the -”

“Now don't be rude, we've traveled with lasses uhfore -”

“I'm just saying -”

“ _No_ -”

“Holy shit, _shut up_ ,” Ira shouted. They all turned their heads to look at her, surprise written on their faces. Well, most of them anyways. Some just look disgruntled. “Why don't you just do what you normally do, and I'll go last? I don't really care when it happens, just so long as it does.”

There was some muttering over this and a lot of shrugging. Eventually they all just agreed because why not?

They divided into two groups. The first would go to the stream to wash up, and while they did that the other group would stay behind to tend the food, fire, and keep an eye on the ponies. Gathering up what she assumed were changes of clothes and things to wash up with, a lot of the dwarves glanced back at her, looking at her like maybe they thought she was going to sneak a peak.

She was curious, she'll admit, but hell no she wasn't actually going to. Besides, she had another problem on her hands.

“Gandalf, ol' buddy, ol' pal,” she said, sidling up next to him by the fire. He was sat on a fallen tree branch that might as well have been its own decently sized tree. The trees here were fucking huge.

“Hmm?” he hummed, blowing out smoke from his nose, a wooden pipe in one hand.

“Got another problem. I, uh, I don't have any soap or nothin'.” 

“I see,” he chuckled, blowing out more smoke, which took the shape of various bugs with wings, and began flitting about the air. She watched with interest, distracted for the moment. Some Alice in Wonderland shit right there, she thought. “Worry not, my dear Ira. I will lend you provisions with which you may bathe.”

“Awesome! I appreciate it, a lot.”

Dwarf bath time was a loud affair, it would seem. The first group to go and have a wash went down far enough so they wouldn't be easily seen from camp, but close enough to still be heard. There were happy shouts and loud splashes, probably from dwarves being dunked or something. She's certainly never heard anyone have as much fun bathing as these dwarves did. It was also a long one.

They were gone more than an hour, if she had to guess, before the first couple dwarves started coming back. They didn't all come back at once, which she was curious about, and it must have been pretty blatant on her face for one of the dwarves grinned good naturedly at her.

“More play than washin' tends to go on when a group of dwarves get a chance to bathe. Can take a while,” he said. Bofur, she was sure his name was. She remembered his funny hat more than anything.

“Oh,” was all she could think to say.

Gandalf had come through with his promise. He'd since then provided her a small bar of soap, and a relatively clean if rough looking rag. She was so not going to complain about the lack of conditioner. At this point she was just happy at the opportunity to get a good rinse, so God bless an actual bar of soap. Plus it smelled kind of nice; floral, amazingly enough.

The last of group one finally came back, beards dripping, and clean faces beaming. Group two gathered up their supplies and went to have their turn.

“Now then, lass,” Balin again said. “When it's your turn should anythin' dangerous happen jus' give a shout an' we'll be there, aye? Your life's worth more'n a little loss of dignity.”

“Um,” Ira blinked owlishly for a moment. Intellectually she could understand this, but contemplating an actual scenario in which she'd have to call in a cavalry of dwarves to save her naked ass was enough to make anyone's brain stutter. “Okay. Thanks, Balin.”

Balin just smiled kindly, nodded, and went off to follow the last group of dwarves to the stream.

The ones that already washed up, a couple apparently had instruments stashed away on their ponies. Ira was a bit impressed, she never noticed them before. Maybe their packs were magic, and could hold more than they appeared to. Probably not, she thought, but at this point nothing would _really_ surprise her.

There was a violin (fiddle? she couldn't tell the difference) and a flute. The rest clapped and stamped out an accompanying beat, and struck up some songs. She didn't know any of them, but they made her smile anyways. She watched as some of them began dancing, and when one song ended they went right into another. Ira could definitely say this of dwarves: They knew how to have fun.

Finally it was her turn to bathe. Every last dwarf was clean and back, and now that she was up she was kind of nervous. For one, she'd never bathed in such an open area before. For two, never nearby so many dudes. Ira'd showered with people before, but it wasn't even close to the same thing.

“Remember, lass, jus' give a shout an' we'll be there,” Balin reminded her when she gathered her only extra pair of clothes and her soap. She nodded to him, and made her way slowly off towards where she'd seen the others go.

A little distance away, and the trees began to obscure the line of her sight of camp. Well, at least she knew nobody'd be getting a free show after all. She dumped her clothes on the bank by a spot she deemed acceptable to enter and stripped. First she washed out the clothes she'd been wearing. They were getting kinda rank. Scrubbing as best she could she rinsed then hung them up on some low hanging tree branches near the bank. Then she waded into the water. Thankfully it wasn't as cold as she feared it might be.

Maybe the stream was a decent depth for a dwarf and a hobbit, but it barely came up to her thighs. Oh well, she thought. She'd just crouch to take care of her hair. Ira lathered up the rag, and scrubbed down twice to make sure she got everywhere and everything. She scrubbed at her hair roughly at first, but quickly noticed she had to be slow and gentle. The soap was making her hair seem sticky somehow. Not in a gooey way, but in that chlorine saturated sort of way, when it utterly strips your hair of all the oils.

She'd just dunked her head to rinse off when she glanced down and saw the snake in the water. Ira utterly froze. She didn't know jack about snakes, and it was safer to just assume everything had the potential to kill her if it came in contact with her. But maybe it'd just swim on to the other side and...

Nope. Right towards her.

Okay, Ira thought, calm down. Don't scream over a snake. Just move out of the water slowly...

That plan drained right out of her ears when she saw it move just a tad bit closer, and with a garbled whimper she splashed out of the stream and up the bank to where her clothes were. Thankfully it didn't seem the snake wasn't intent on following her.

“Fuck,” she breathed, taking a moment to let her heart calm down. Danger apparently averted, she waited to air dry well enough to slip her own clothes on. If they thought her shirt was underwear, well, she'd educate them on the finer points of American summer apparel.

“She lives!” someone crowed. Kili, she thought. And then, “uh,”.

“They're not small-clothes if that's what you're thinking,” she said.

“They're not? They certainly appear to be,” Kili said, eyes flitting from her to the fire and back a few times. Him and a few others.

“Nah, it's just a sleeve-less shirt, and some short pants where I come from. Our small-clothes are, well, smaller.” Ira sat down on the log Gandalf was sat on earlier, though he was nowhere to be found among the crowd at the moment. Maybe he was off bathing in privacy himself. She started setting up a makeshift clothesline made of sticks so her hobbit clothes could finish drying out. She was going to need to change into them before it got too cold.

“Gandalf mentioned that once or twice; about you not really being from this world. Frankly it's a little hard to believe, but I've never seen clothes quite like that, and you are a rather strange lass...” Fili ventured. Many curious and some suspicious eyes were on her now.

“Well, he didn't lie. Where I come from this place is just a fantasy, so your clothes are strange to _me_ ” she said. They all made some kind of face or another.

“Fantasy? Ye mean like a tale? Just a story?” another dwarf said.

“Yeah.”

“Now _that's_ just impossible to believe.”

“Believe me,” Ira said, a smirk on her face. “All this is just as impossible to me, too. But it is what it is, I guess.”

“Can ye tell us more about this place ye come from?”

Ira shrugged, and tried to think of what they'd find interesting. Was it safe to talk about technology? Culture, probably.

“Well... For one, we don't have any kings or queens,” she hedged, glancing at Thorin. He spared her a glance as well, but went immediately back to fussing over his weapons.

“None at all? Who rules over your people?”

“We have what we call a president. Our system of government relies on the, uh, common people electing our officials. The president is the main leader, though there are other people in positions of power that are important, too. They're required so the president doesn't have too much say in everything.”

This elicited mutters and muted debates. She let them have at it, glad she doesn't have to describe more. She didn't do too well in her classes, and it'd been a while since she'd dropped out of highschool. Nothing was fresh in her mind academic wise.

“What about your clothes, then? How do people normally dress?”

“This is pretty normal, actually. Fashion changes constantly, and sometimes people get really out there with it, but mostly we just make due with a simple shirt and jeans.” Ira gestured to her shorts when they didn't recognized the word.

The rest of the evening went on like that. Dwarves and Bilbo asking questions, and them generally being confused or disagreeable with America. Gandalf came back eventually, listening in with interest but saying nothing. When the sun had been set for a while Thorin called it a night, and bade the fire to be put out for bed. Ira actually managed to get a little bit better sleep this time around. She figured maybe it was because she was clean again. For now anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: Who is the troll in this chapter? The snake or the author?
> 
> And for anyone who's curious about Thorin's persistent silent treatment in the face of Ira's ill-mannered behavior it's because I believe Thorin thinks it's not worth reacting to some human girl-child's attitude. Think about it; If you had to spend your years of exile working in human villages wouldn't you get tired of trying to be somebody they don't acknowledge and say fuck it I don't need to deal with this shit?
> 
> In other news the remakes of Pokemon Ruby and Sapphire have been announced, come to find out. I am forever laughing because Ruby is the Omega version and Groudon has ever been Kyogre's bitch, lol.


	11. That Awkward Moment When You're Link For Five Seconds

Well, they did it. They made it to the farmer's house, which meant trolls were on the agenda for the night. Shit.

Ira had been a jumpy, nervous wreck ever since she recognized the overgrown ruins of the house they were stopped at. Every little noise made her scan the area, even though she knew things wouldn't start happening until dinner was ready. Gandalf took note of her behavior yet he didn't mention it. The others, though, eyed her warily.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo hedged as the sun sunk lower in the sky. Thorin and Gandalf had had their little tiff, and the wizard had gone by then.

“I'm fine, Bilbo. Thanks for asking,” she said, and she meant it. Ira smiled at him before he nodded and walked away.

Supper was ready all too soon.

She watched Bilbo take Fili and Kili's bowls to them. Watched him disappear from eyesight beyond the trees to where the ponies were being kept.

Ira sat there around the fire with the others, stirring the soup in her bowl. Everyone was in a pretty chill mood for the most part, and it only made knowing what was supposed to happen a little worse. The other dwarves didn't seem to be worried about how long Bilbo had been gone. Maybe it wasn't actually as long as it felt, she thought.

“Uncle,” she heard Kili suddenly say a little breathlessly as him and his brother came back to the group. “There's trouble with our burglar; he's found himself three hungry trolls.”

This actually pissed Ira off quite a bit, considering Bilbo didn't find jack shit to do with those trolls, but now was not the time. Thorin rallied the dwarves to take up arms, and when they all began following Fili and Kili into the woods, Thorin stopped by Ira to frown at her.

“You will remain here. I do not need the death of some witless girl among other things,” he huffed, then he was off.

This did nothing to help her mood, but really, how could she argue? So she stayed put and fretted the entire time. Everything was so quiet without the noise of the group, the only sound being the woods, and the fire still crackling away without a care in the world. 

When Ira heard something approaching the campsite she freaked a bit. She grabbed the weaponest looking thing nearest to her, which happened to be a long stemmed ladle, and brandished it like it might, if she tried hard enough, do some amount of damage, nervously shifting her weight between her feet constantly.

“Ira? Ira, where is everyone? What's happened?” Gandalf asked hurriedly, and then she could see him more clearly between the trees. She gave a shuddery sigh in relief.

“They've found the trolls,” she told him.

“Where? How many? Quickly!”

“Th-that way. Um, three trolls. They're probably tied up by now...” she muttered. Without another word Gandalf was away back into the forest, and she was alone again.

That night seemed to take forever to pass. All Ira could do was pace around the fire restlessly. There were several times where she got up enough nerve to say fuck it, she'll go after them, but then she chickened out in the end. When she noticed the sky beginning to light with the sun she heaved another sigh of relief. It was weird, she thought, how even though knowing the outcome of the events it was still so Goddamn stressful. Then a thought hit her - they never make it back to camp, do they? Radagast finds them, and then the orcs... Oh, shit.

Putting the fire out first, because only you can prevent forest fires, she looked on in the direction everyone had gone, and without really having any choice followed suit.

Ira had been going in the right direction at least when she saw the statues of the trolls. Not being able to help herself she got close enough to touch one. It felt weird; unlike any concrete surface she'd touched before. It was smooth, maybe marred by a crack or a wrinkle. Nevermind them, though, she was wasting time. The ground had a bunch of smashed grass, and footprints going away from the trolls so she followed that. When she found them Radagast was already there. Gandalf nodded to her, as if he knew all along she'd find them in the end, and silently handed her a sword.

“Um,” she said, mostly to get his full attention. He and the other wizard looked at her quizzically. “Where did you get this? Like, yeah, the troll hoard, but... There shouldn't have been an extra sword?”

“Hmm, well, let us simply count our blessings and leave it at that, hm?” was all Gandalf had to say about it.

She'd never held a sword before. It was... sort of heavy. She assumed any sword would be a lot heavier, actually, being a solid stick of metal and all. Maybe because it was an elvish blade it wasn't as heavy as other swords? It was very elegant looking, like everything else elvish. Still, she didn't know anything about wielding one, and just holding it in her hands made her feel awkward.

Then the wargs attacked, and she forgot all about her pretty elven sword, even though it could have come in hand to, y'know, save her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weaponest is totally a word when you're afraid a troll's found you all alone in the woods.


	12. Her Brain Is Not With The Program

She was so out of breath she was seriously wondering if she was about to pass out. Her lungs were on fire, and her legs were likewise burning from all the running she was not used to. Radagast, God bless his wizard soul, was an awesome diversion. If she ever saw him again she might just kiss him. On the cheek not caked in bird shit, of course.

Lots of running and dodging about going on. Thorin finally caught on to Gandalf's Take The Dwarves to Rivendell scheme. They were all huddled next to a large boulder now, and Ira swore her heart stopped when the warg and its orc rider prowled over it. Then he and his warg were howling, blood seeping from killing blows as the company beat him into silence. Everything was just happening so damn fast, she barely had any time to process more than the feeling of her chest burning and her ears ringing. Every time she blinked something had changed; the landscape; the dwarves, and where they were when she last saw them. The orcs were closing in around them. The field was a cacophony of snarls and shouts.

Then, and thank baby Jesus, they were at the secret entrance to Rivendell. Not even bothering to stop and think about the fact that, were she not currently being chased by a pack of friggin' orcs, she'd be afraid to just jump down a hole in the ground. She practically flew down that damn hole. The landing was jarring, and it made her already numbing legs tingle.

When Elrond's hunting party blew their horn in the distance she thought she'd feel relieved, yet strangely there was a distinct lack of nothing. All the dwarves were gathered close, and the orcs weren't chasing them anymore. When they started shuffling forwards along the pathway she finally remembered her new sword. At least she hadn't accidentally lost it somehow. By then Ira's body felt like it was on auto-pilot as she walked. It took several minutes for her to stop panting for air, and by then her legs felt weak.

Rivendell came into view with what she had hoped would be an awe-striking beauty, but she just stared at it blankly, and barely even saw it. Instead she kept seeing that orc killed not ten feet from her, the warg shrieking in its death throes still echoing around in her head.

“Miss Ira?” one of the dwarves hedged when she remained rooted to the spot, and everyone else had started forwards again. She looked over at him, and couldn't remember his name for some reason.

“Sorry,” she muttered, and dragged her feet forward to follow the line of dwarves.

In no time at all it seemed they'd made it to the entrance court, or whatever it was actually called, and was greeted by that one elf guy she really couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. He actually gave her a sort of curious and speculative look, being as she was taller than the group of shorties she was clustered in with, she assumed.

Then Elrond himself showed up in all his dwarf-ass-saving glory, welcomed them all to his halls, and sat them all down at his table with the freshest salad Ira had ever seen. That was about the time she exploded into tears. It came on so suddenly she didn't even realize she'd started crying until she gasped for air between sobs, and her hands were shaking so badly she dropped her neatly carved wooden fork.


	13. Not Her Proudest Moment

A couple female elves had apparently swooped in to help her to a more private room so she could finish crying her eyes out. Ira assumed they must have had to practically carry her there because she felt so drained it was amazing she hadn't fallen asleep yet. Rivendell had proper beds as it turned out. They set her down on one in the room she was in. It was large, cushy, and soft with plush comforters. Ira reached over to drag a big, fluffy pillow closer, and hug it tightly to her chest. She was grateful for it all, but it was weird because she remembered reading once that elves didn't really sleep. They meditated or something, like Vulcans. Oh well.

They asked her questions she couldn't really answer very well, and they muttered stuff that made her think of shock victims in TV shows. Is that what it was? In her fit of sobbing she blubbered about the orc she watched them kill, and how she'd never seen anything die. Thank God they washed his blood off for her, too, because she didn't even notice she had any on her. Ira didn't think she could stomach seeing something like that right now.

When she had calmed down they thought it was safe enough to leave her on her own, but not before showing her to a large basin they said she could use to bathe herself in. It was already filled with steaming water, and Gandalf must have told someone about her wardrobe malfunction because they even provided a clean set of clothing.

Ira washed up, not really feeling like it but figured she couldn't waste the hot water. Shit like that was a luxury in Middle Earth. She scrubbed down with soaps not as harsh as the one Gandalf provided, and they left her hair and skin feeling soft. When she got out of the basin and nudged the lever at the bottom that released the water down a drain she wondered where in the movie she was now. Was Gandalf meeting up with Saruman? She hoped she never had to meet the guy herself.

The clothes they set out for her were the finest things she'd probably ever wear in her life. There was elvish underwear, too, if she had to guess. The slip was easy enough to get, but there was a long, flimsy length of the same material in with it that she couldn't figure out. It wasn't like any pair of panties she'd ever seen, so she just left it alone. The dress they gave her was a bit snug in places, but not anything close to like what Bilbo's pants had been. She was utterly grateful for that. And look, the sleeves weren't too short. The bodice was firm around her torso, and somehow that was comforting instead of restricting.

There was a knock, and Ira turned about to see where it was coming from. Rivendell didn't appear to really have any doors, just intricately woven archways. She spotted a female elf off a ways, peering in curiously.

“My Lady Ira? Lord Elrond would ask after your health, and wonders if you would like to try to eat something,” she said. 

“That sounds amazing,” she sighed, following the elf lady out. Her long skirt swished about her ankles, and felt like liquid silk against her legs. “Um, thank you very much for helping me, and letting me borrow some clothes.”

“Of course, My Lady,” was all she said as she lead Ira out and back to the table she was sat at during her meltdown. It was devoid of dwarves for the moment, but there was a spot left made for her. She awkwardly sat down again, not really used to being in a dress, and tried to not be a sloppy eater.

Salads were never very filling so she ate everything in her bowl. They were just all water and crunch to her, but hey, it was the first salad she's had since coming to Middle Earth, so it was a nice change from what the dwarves usually made while they traveled. Afterwards the same elf lady that came to fetch her from her room showed her back to the company. Elrond was there, and so was the other dark haired elf that seemed to shadow him everywhere. There was soft music from a flute and a harp. She assumed they were having a meeting, but when she came within earshot they were apparently just talking about what all would be provided for them during their stay.

“Miss Ira,” Gandalf said, smiling kindly. “Glad to see you return.”

“Thanks,” Ira said, taking a seat between two dwarves; Gloin and Ori, she noted. There were polite murmurs similar to Gandalf's, a few reaching over to pat her shoulders comfortingly.

“Gandalf has mentioned your predicament to me, Miss Ira,” Elrond spoke up, getting her attention. “It is a very interesting tale indeed.”

“No doubt,” she responded. To be honest she felt a bit shy around Elrond. He was always her favorite elf. Elrond was totally badass, but he was also indulgent and personable, unlike the other elves from the movies. Even Legolas had a fancy elf-ish stick up his ass; _Especially_ in the Hobbit movie. “Any ideas on how to fix it?”

“I'm afraid not. Something like this has never happened before. Gandalf tells me you do not remember anything that might hint as to how or why this has happened?”

“Sorry, no. It was a regular day for me, and the next thing I know I'm waking up in Hobbit-land.”

“Well, so long as you are here you shall be treated as an honored guest,” Elrond said, a kind look to his expression. He didn't outright smile, but she could see the sympathy in his eyes.

“Tell Lord Elrond a bit about your world, eh? I know we'd all like t'hear more. Right, lads?” Bofur said, nodding around the table of dwarves. Voices rose up in general agreement.

“Okay. Uh... Well, what do you want to know?”

“Tell us of the dwarves there!” Fili quipped. There were several ayes at this.

Ira fidgeted in her seat. “There aren't any.”

There was a moment of silent shock, and then the table erupted into confused or alarmed commotion. She could pick out a lot of voices asking how, and what happened, but mostly _how?_

“There just aren't? There never were in my world,” Ira said, looking over at them all with a frown and furrowed brows. For some reason the fact that her world didn't have any dwarves made her a little sad. “We never had dwarves, or hobbits. We don't have elves or trolls or orcs. Not even any wizards,” she said, glancing at Gandalf and shrugging a shoulder. Dark hair, tall and elf-some next to Elrond looked the most shocked at this news.

“No kings, no dwarves. What have ye got, then?”

“Just people. Men, women. They vary a lot, but that's all we got.”

“Vary how, if I might ask?” Elrond leaned forward a bit, looking interested.

“Well... We call them by different races, even though we're all human. Some people have really dark skin, some have different facial features common to that race, like slanted eyes.”

“So why do ye look a bit elvish, then?” Nori, she thought, said. Ira blinked at his question, and saw Thorin looked over at her then, suddenly interested.

“Do I? I wouldn't have guessed.” Ira gave a nervous chuckle.

“A little, actually,” Elrond's elf dude piped. “You have the bearing of a Daughter of Man, but many features that are elven. It happens sometimes, the union between a man and an elf, so I just assumed... But evidently not.” He shook his head a tiny bit.

“Thorin thought I was an elf when he first saw me,” she said, grinning at him. Thorin only grunted and looked away from the group.

“I was not the only one,” he said gruffly.

Conversation was quiet but overall friendly. Ira's eyelids were starting to droop, and she was all but completely asleep where she sat for the next while. When she gave in and leaned her head against the dwarf to her left, Ori, she barely noted the chuckles this elicited. Ori was the youngest one, if she remembered from the goblin scene, so maybe he had a startled expression on his face, but she was too tired to really care at the moment.

“Perhaps it would be best to retire,” Elrond said, a hint of amusement in his voice. There were mixed reactions to this, some grumbling and others agreeing. The dwarves were beginning to get up and disperse but good ol' Ori stayed still as a statue.

“Miss Ira?” he ventured quietly. She grumbled a bit, but lifted her head off him, yawning.

“Sorry, Ori,” she said, and patted him in thanks on his fuzzy, dwarf head.

“S'alright,” he muttered before scurrying away.

Ira mumbled a tired goodnight to everyone, and shuffled her way back in the direction she thought she'd come. She ended up wandering around a bit, not being able to tell one woven archway from another before getting fed up with trying to find her room, and hunkering down for the night on a long wooden bench. Really, at this point in her life, having slept for more than a week on the ground, and being as tired as she was, a smooth surface was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ira lucked out on the trolls, but now she's had her first taste of how utterly incapable she really is with being in a world where you have to literally kill or be killed. You and I both know that one orc and his warg are just the beginning. And not every threat is found at the end of a sword.


	14. Elrond Is The Best Elf Ever

She'd woken up in her bed that morning. Well, not _her_ bed, but the bed in the room she was given in Rivendell. Someone must have found her, and dragged her sorry ass back to her room for her, she thought. 

There was another change of clothes at the foot of the bed. Ira went ahead and put those on; another dress, and once again she had to forego their weird strip of clothe for underwear. Maybe if she spotted that one elf chick around and got her alone she could ask the embarrassing question about how to wear it.

Breakfast was an array of more fresh fruits and vegetables. Elrond apparently took pity on the dwarves, or was sick of their complaining, because strips of dried meat had been provided for them. There was a rich, creamy soup in a bowl with her name on it, and it was probably the best bowl of soup she'd ever had in her life.

“Fuck, that was good,” she sighed, leaning back in her seat at the table, and rubbing her belly in contentment. She caught the scandalized looks of a few near-by elves, and the dwarves chuckled at her.

“Glad t'see ye've cheered up a bit, lass,” Balin said to her. “Was a wee bit concerned after yesterday's little adventure.”

Ira cringed, and looked up at him sheepishly. “I'm a delicate flower, I said as much before you guys left the Shire.”

“Your people at peace in your world, that ye dunnae really see such gruesome sights?”

She stared down at her empty bowl for a moment, trying to think on how to answer that. “...Not really. People are still dying and killing every day, we just don't... Most people don't see it in person, I guess.”

Balin made a sad face at her, and went back to poking at his food.

The elves were ridiculously polite and courteous. It actually started to get on her nerves how utterly elegant and poised they were. Rivendell made a really pretty picture, and elves were gorgeous people, but their constant, fuck she didn't know, elf-ness was downright weird after a while.

Lindir, she found out his name finally, had taken it upon himself to be her personal tour guide. He showed her around most of the city, explained general Elf 101 details, and answered any questions she might have had. Rivendell was a fairly hoppin' place once you looked a little closer. There weren't many elves lounging about being fed grapes from servants or anything. Most of them occupied themselves with some kind of hobby, like music or poetry. Anything she overheard was in Elvish, but it sounded nice nonetheless. 

All in all Rivendell was a peaceful place; the kind you wanna go on vacation to. Ira didn't wanna live there, though. As it was turning out they were spending quite a bit of time there. She thought back to the movie, and how everything seemed to happen in the span of an afternoon when so far they'd been there for several days. Almost a week at this point.

Lunch that particular day turned into a rowdy affair. The company was getting pretty bored and tired of the quiet, and soon food started flying while they sang loud songs. Aside from nearby statues getting splattered, their boisterous behavior put her in a good mood, and she clapped along while they sang and stamped their feet. Plus, afterwards, they did clean up their mess.

“Elrond,” Ira said, having finally managed to get up the nerve to talk to him when he didn't look very busy. Lindir was there, and he gave her a polite head tilt. She returned it awkwardly. “I, uh. I was wondering if you could help me.”

“How might I be of assistance, young Ira?” he asked politely, setting down a thin stack of papers on the table in front of him. Ira shuffled her feet a bit.

“I think Gandalf must have told you, or someone, but when I got here - to Middle Earth I mean - I didn't have anything with me but the clothes I was wearing. I was wondering if maybe I could... Borrow some? For traveling.” It was all coming out at once, her words, and she was glancing from his face down to her fidgety fingers and back often. Elrond, bless his elfy heart, didn't seem to take offense.

“Yes, he did mention it. Not to worry, I believe we can remedy that. As you've already been told you do look much like an elf, so fitting you some proper clothes won't be too hard I don't think,” he chuckled. “I do, however, have to ask; you intend to continue traveling with the dwarves? Gandalf has also made it known to me you already know what is to transpire. You would still go?”

“Well...” Ira looked at him steadily now, furrowing her brows. “I don't have much choice, now do I?”

“My dear Ira,” Elrond said, adopting a sympathetic look. “There is always a choice.”

She didn't really see one. 

Elrond was a trooper, though. He kept his promise of giving her clothes. Later that day an elf maid found her staring off into space, and she ushered Ira to a room where they helped her pick out a few outfits they thought she might like. They were very nice, but she had to tell them she needed clothes that could stand up to, say, rock climbing or stray goblin claws. They didn't even blink at this, just disappearing only to reappear moments later with sturdier clothes. Thank God they had pants. Leggings, they called them. And they'd be warm. One of the elves had taken measurements of various parts of her body, and told her her armor would be ready within a couple days. Cool.

She even got a new pair of boots. The insides were lined with some kind of short furred pelt, and the soles were thin but tough. She'd have to break them in.

“Look at ye!” Gloin cried when she came into view for dinner that night. Every eye was on her as she shuffled forward, her face warm. “Now ye look like a proper elf, eh?”

“'M not an elf,” she grumbled, but smiled at them anyways. The elves had braided her hair up a bit and everything in true elvish style. Kept it out of her eyes, so she wasn't complaining. Sitting down was awkward now that she could wear her sword on her hip.

“Ganna have to teach you how to carry that thing,” Fili said, noting her awkwardness.

“If you think you can,” Ira muttered, digging into her food. More salad with lots of nuts, berries and vegetables.

“That sounds like a challenge to me!” Kili crowed, a big grin on his face. He and his brother shared a look and nodded. “C'mon!”

They both got up from the table, and surrounded her sides. Lifting her up gently but firmly from the table they dragged her away from the others. She squawked and struggled lamely, but they'd have none of it. 'It's easy,' they said, letting her go in a more open space in the dining hall. She snorted.

“Now then, show us what you know,” Fili said, unsheathing one of his twin blades from his layers of clothes.

“I've never held a sword in my life,” she huffed, and pulled it out of the scabbard for the first time, looking down at it like it was going to spit acid on her any second now.

“Not to worry, we'll show you how it's done,” Kili said, standing off a ways.

“Just come at me to start with, eh?” Fili took a moderately defensive stance, his blade up and ready to block her attack.

Ira hesitated a few moments, looking back and forth between them before heaving a sigh. “Alright,” she said, and skipped forward a bit to tap her blade to his.

Everyone burst into laughter at the delicate clang, and her face was so hot she must have looked badly sunburnt. Fili was doubling over, his blade at his side, and one arm around his middle, shaking his head.

“No no,” he laughed, wiping at his eyes. “ _Really_ come at me. You're not ganna hurt me, so swing that thing with the best of them.”

The entire evening consisted of her making an idiot of herself in front of all the dwarves, Gandalf, Bilbo, Elrond, Lindir, and what other elves happened to be within the area. They started calling out advice, mistakes, making wagers. She knew they didn't mean it in a bad way, but she still felt like a moron, especially when she dropped her sword a few times.

“Dunnae worry, lass,” Balin said when everyone was taking out their pipes to smoke and relax. “Everyone starts off beginners at some point in their lives.”

“Thanks, Balin,” she muttered, rubbing her hands together. They tingled after hitting her sword against something so many times. He smiled at her before shuffling off to get out his own pipe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do love Elrond a lot. I couldn't help but make Ira love him, too. Also for anyone who is interested in why everyone keeps mistaking Ira for an elf it's because she literally looks a lot like one. The elves from the movies, aside from a few individuals like Haldir or Galadriel, all have the same features as far as I've seen. They're tall, thin to the point of being angular, and have straight, flat hair.


	15. She'd Be Ready For Any Convention In This

Two weeks was apparently the time limit for their stay at Rivendell. It was early in the morning now, and Ira had just bathed and dressed when Dwalin came stomping in to tell her to get her stuff ready. 

It took a bit of time. Packing was easy enough, and look at that, she had her own pack now. Bedroll and blanket and all. Her armor was a different matter. The elves had shown her several times how to dress herself, but it was still really tedious. She'd been given some light chainmail, which was still heavy for her, especially when it was all compounded together on her body. She fumbled strapping and buckling her platewear on her. By the time she was finally ready to go the company had all come to fetch her themselves, tired of waiting, and wasn't that just a weird thing. She'd honestly have thought they'd ditch her given the chance. Her thoughts must have been plain on her face though.

“I argued against leaving you behind," Bilbo whispered next to her as they tromped up the path that lead away from Rivendell. Ira blinked at him, and then leaned down to give him a hug.

“Thanks,” she whispered back. Bilbo sputtered nonsense as she let go, and his face was turning a bit pink. Seeing it made her grin. Ira looked back one more time at Rivendell, a little sad she couldn't say goodbye to Elrond, or Lindir. Or any of the elf ladies that had been so nice to her. Next to her Bilbo gazed back as well.

“Master Baggins, Miss Ira, I suggest you keep up,” Thorin griped, and she and Bilbo looked at each other before hiking up their packs, and following the rest of the company.

Ira was perfectly fine at the start of their departure. In fact, she was near the lead with Balin given that her strides were longer, but after a handful of hours of constant walking she lagged to the middle, and then the back of the line, her back and feet aching. She didn't allow herself to be left behind all too much, though, so nobody commented on it, and every time she wanted to whine or complain she just grit her teeth and carried on like the posters from home told her to.

Kili had been shooting stray animals - rabbits and pheasants - along the way. He'd draw his bow when he saw something in the distance, stand still for a moment, and fire off an arrow. It was impressive, actually. All he ever needed was one every time. Then he'd trot out to pick up his kill, and retrieve his arrow. When they stopped for the lunch they made up his dead birds for a broth, and stripped the rabbits to dry the meat for later. Ori kept the better quality feathers they plucked for himself.

“Nice shooting,” Ira said while they ate. She was sat next to a silent Nori, with Kili across from her, and his brother beside him. He beamed at her praise.

“Careful there, lassie, you'll make his head grow too big for his shoulders,” Gloin said gruffly, but when she looked over at him his eyes were crinkled in a smile. Kili's proudly puffed chest lost all its air, and he pouted at Gloin. Fili grinned at his brother's side.

Lunch didn't last very long. When they'd left Rivendell they were surrounded by sloping hills and pine trees. The further on they walked the less dense the pines got. Conversation was pretty non-existent. Most of the time everyone was walking along in a line, like Ira's third grade class did whenever they were herded somewhere out of the classroom. Thinking back to those days, and looking on ahead at the dwarves, she burst into laughter purely because they were all so short, so the comparison was really fitting. Bifur and Bofur, the two dwarves closest and in front of her, turned and looked at her strangely. Ira just shook her head at them, and kept walking.

Never in her life had she walked this much at once, and her feet told her exactly what they thought of this abuse with every step.

All day. They'd been walking all Goddamn day, only stopping for lunch earlier, and to piss behind some scraggly bushes. That was fun, too, in that elf pants didn't simply zip or button up. They laced up the sides of her hips with thin, leather strings, and even though the elves had shown her how to correctly tie up her pants she got frustrated with it, and used a traditional bunny-eared bow. This turned out to be a problem, since her chainmail caught on it sometimes, and it came undone while she walked so she was forced to do the best elf knot she could.

“We'll camp here,” Thorin declared suddenly. _Finally_. It was well into evening now, and the sun was so low she could see every firefly buzzing in the air. They had kept stomping their way across the ground a little longer than they usually had in the woods. She thought maybe Thorin was hoping for a bit more shelter, but there just wasn't much to be had in such an open space. “No fire tonight.”

Everyone groaned. That meant cold rations. At least her elf clothes were a lot warmer than Bilbo's shirt and vest.

“Fuck,” Ira breathed, dropping down in the grass, and sliding her boots off to massage her aching feet. She could almost cry at the throbbing pain. Bending over to massage them, though, made her back hurt more. With a pathetic whimper she just laid down where she sat, and stared up at the sky.

“Are you alright?” Fili asked, sitting down next to her. Ira replied with a grunt. “Why didn't you say somethin' earlier? We'd have stopped for a break.”

Thorin and Dwalin both grumbled hearing this, and she saw Fili cast them an unimpressed look before giving her his attention again.

“It wouldn't have done any good. Just waste time. I'm going to hurt no matter how many breaks we take,” she sighed tiredly, watching the stars slowly coming out the darker it got. “I'll just have to build up some endurance or something. Until then I'm shit out of luck.”

The company was quiet, only making noise from walking or shifting things around to bed down for the night. Muffled sounds of some of them eating. She had to wonder if they knew how loud they could snore at night. There were even moments when someone would fart loud enough in their sleep to make her start awake. That was funny the first couple times, but now it was kind of annoying since decent sleep seemed to have waved its middle finger in her face.

“Maybe this will help,” Fili said suddenly, scooting down towards her feet, and taking one in hand. “Ach! They're so cold,” he said, and chuckled good naturedly.

Then he started rubbing her foot.

“Oh,” she groaned, surprised, and then she did start crying. He was very gentle, and his hands were pleasantly warm on her cold foot. The pressure still hurt, but it still felt good, too. What a weird combination. It took a moment for her brain to reboot. “Fili, you don't have to – that's totally unnece – _Oh_...”

Ira fell asleep like that, with her feet in a dwarf's lap, and his hands deftly massaging the aches out of them.


	16. Change Your Socks Often

The morning was super awkward. Ira woke up later than everyone, even Bombur, and when she remembered last night she could have just curled up in a ball where she lay and sunk into the ground. Someone, she'd noted, had even tucked her in to bed for her. Again.

Instead she got up, stretched out her sore muscles slowly, and made her way off to a secluded shrub to go to the bathroom. 

During their breakfast of boiled meat rations and vegetables she thanked Fili with a red face, and silently hoped it wouldn't happen again. Next time she'll just keep her boots on or something. Thorin threw a spectacularly disapproving look her way. She could only shrug at him.

Another day of walking was ahead for them. Ira was really missing that horse now. The sky had started off clear and blue once the sun had risen, but as the morning wore on ugly, gray clouds rolled in, and it started to rain. The elves had given her a cloak, among everything else, so that helped a lot. She wondered if her armor was in danger of rusting, but after a while in the rain she realized her cloak was actually fairly water resistant. Huh. Well that was super awesome. Even her boots were turning out to not get wet, which thank God for that, seriously, because nothing else sucked more than wet, soggy feet stuffed in shoes all day.

It continued raining for at least an hour, maybe two? Having to do without a clock around every corner Ira couldn't tell how long anything took anymore. She had a watch back home, but she hadn't worn it to sleep when she came home that day, having gone straight to bed. The sound of the rain made talking pretty impossible, so nobody bothered trying.

Then the bugs came out to play once the rain had stopped. Normally bugs didn't really bother her, but the ones in Middle Earth were alien. And she wasn't vaccinated for a trip to another dimension. They buzzed by her ears, and she'd try and swat them away. Fat lot of good that really did. She still ended up being made a meal of.

“Here, lass,” Oin said during one of their breaks. He handed her a thick leaf with a pasty looking glob on it. “For the bites.”

It helped a lot, actually. They didn't itch, and the swelling went down a little, but still, she figured they'd have to go away all on their own.

They'd taken two extra breaks that day, and Ira suspected it was because of her. She didn't know how to feel about that. Thankful for the consideration, exasperated that they needed to at all. She knew she was a bit of a dead weight to the group, and she hated it. What was she really supposed to do, though? 

Thorin relented to allow a fire that night to finish drying out their damp clothes. Ira goofed and wore her pack over her cloak during the rain. Her pack, as a matter of fact, was not water proof, so most of her elf clothes had gotten soaked. Thankfully her bedroll was on the very bottom, so it wasn't all that bad off. They made a hot broth over the fire, and it helped to keep everyone warm while they dressed down to hang their things up on sticks. The ground was still damp so everyone was sat on a rock when they could find one. Oin would throw a handful of something into the fire now and again that smelled kind of bad when it burned.

“What is that stuff for, Oin?” she asked, her face scrunched up. Oin held his hearing trumpet up, and she repeated herself a little louder this time. His hearing was weird; he seemed to hear things just fine sometimes, and others it was like he couldn't hear hardly anything at all.

“S'tuh keep the insects away,” he said, nodding.

“Oh. Good call.” He gave her a confused look at this. "Saying something's a good call just means it's a good decision. See?" she explained. Oin nodded his understanding, and lowered his ear trumpet.

Many of the dwarves were quiet. Pipes out and puffing away, they seemed content to just stare at the fire. Ira had her boots off again even though she thought to keep them on earlier that morning. She remembered what Lieutenant Dan said to Forrest; take good care of your feet. It seemed like pretty good advice to her, even if it was from another movie. Fili tossed her a questioning glance, if his tilted head was any indication, and she'd firmly shook her head no. At least she assumed he meant for a repeat of last night. He just shrugged, and went back to talking quietly with Kili.

“Bilbo,” Ira said quietly after a while, mostly because she was pretty bored. He turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised in question. “Don't your feet ever get cold?”

He smiled a bit then. “Oh, not really. I mean, yes, sometimes, but not terribly so? Never uncomfortably so, I should say. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Ira shrugged, and pulled at some of the tall grass in front of her.

“You're often cold, though, aren't you?” Bilbo asked. She thought he must know the answer to that, since when she first started out people had to give up their blankets for her.

“Yeah. I dunno why. People say I must have bad circulation or something. Who knows?”

“Bad circulation? Is there something wrong with your health?”

This got Thorin's attention for some reason. He turned to look at her, and the light from the fire making shadows on his face just made him look that much meaner.

“Have you an illness that was neglected to have been mentioned?” he growled.

“Uh,” Ira blinked. “No? It's just a guess. I'm obviously not suffering from anything other than being totally out of shape,” she snipped. She was a little embarrassed to admit that.

Thorin made a mildly confused face that was, like, ninety-percent frown. “Explain; what are you saying? Speak plainly for once.”

Ira sighed. She didn't mind when they couldn't understand what she meant, but she didn't like the way he talked to her. Honestly, would it kill him to not be a prick any time he opened his mouth?

“Out of shape; it means I don't get enough exercise. My body isn't used to a lot of physical activity, so it has low expectations. Got it?”

Thorin stared at her for a moment more before he turned away to ignore her, apparently done with their little conversation. She could see him muttering to himself, and whatever it was he had to say couldn't be nice things, she thought. Whatever, just so long as he left her alone for the rest of the night. She was kind of glad when bedtime rolled around.

That night they all huddled a bit closer together for warmth, since the rain had cooled things off more than usual, and seeing them layering legs and heads on each other made her want to giggle a bit. They reminded her of a puppy or kitten pile, all the dwarves together for bed. She herself squeezed between Kili and Ori, and managed to get to sleep relatively easy.


	17. At Least There Were No Water Snakes

Ira's next hurdle was the river. The landscape hadn't changed much after several days of hiking, and she knew they still had a long, long way to go yet, if the many shots of scenery porn in the movie was any indication. So when they settled down next to the first river they came to, there was a distinct lack of cover.

Meaning absolutely zero privacy.

A lot of the dwarves seemed to realize this too, glancing nervously her way once in a while as camp was set up. She opted to address it later rather than sooner, instead wandering off to pick up whatever sticks and branches she could find for a fire.

Some of the guys went down to the river and sat on the bank, fiddling with a bundle of something she couldn't really see all that well. Ira sat next to Bombur after the pit for the fire was made. Bombur never said anything in the movies that she could remember, and she hadn't heard him say anything in person, either. She had to wonder why. Just as she was about to try and talk to him someone gave a shout, and there was a scuffle.

“Nori, you rotten pick-pocket!” Kili cried. He was rolling around on the ground with Nori, who was trying to shove the other away. Fili was laughing at them.

“What's he nicked this time, eh?” Dori asked.

“Some of Kili's pipe-weed,” said Fili. He cheered his brother on when elbows were introduced.

Dwalin had gone down to the bank with some of the others before, and they were coming back now with a net in his hands. So that was what they were messing with, she thought. They'd apparently managed to catch some fish. Dwalin gave the net to Gloin, who was next to Ori, and the two of them started shaving scales off the fish with a knife. Ira watched while they worked until they slit the fish open to gut them. Yuck.

Thorin had put his foot down on Kili and Nori's little tiff. Ira couldn't tell if Kili had gotten his weed back or not. They cooked the fish over the fire like you'd see in an anime, and that made her smile to herself. The elves had given them a sack of apples for their trip, among other things, and Bilbo was keeping an eye on some that had been done up to bake over hot coals from the fire.

Ira thought this was all kind of nice, like a family reunion or something. Fili and Kili being the two rowdy kids you always have at those sorts of things; Thorin and Dwalin the grumpy old guys you'd hear complaining about how everything's gone to shit over the years. Ori was the shy boy that wanted to play and make friends, but he couldn't seem to get up the nerve. She knew that wasn't really the case with him, he just liked to watch everybody have their fun for the most part. Balin was everybody's grandpa in her little scenario.

When they'd all finished eating Thorin stood, and it was just small things like that that Ira'd seen him do to get everyone's attention. She had to admit to herself it was sort of impressive.

“Alright then, lads,” he called. “No games this day. In, wash, and out. And I'll have none of you sneaking a peak.”

Well done, Thorin, she thought sarcastically. At least he said something about it.

She got some pointed looks, and she held her hands up at them in a placating manner while they made their way to the river bank. When they started stripping she laid down on her side, facing away from them, and rested her head in her hand.

The splashes and light conversation that floated up the bank to where she was seemed amplified somehow. Like the more she tried not to think about it, the easier it was to hear, so she hummed quietly to herself, and picked at the grass.

Without the rowdy water games it didn't take them long at all to bathe. She heard a few of them splash noisily out of the water, and start dressing. When they came back up to the fire they shook out their beards, and began fixing them up in their usual style, talking of this and laughing at that. 

Several of them opted to keep their beards trimmed, and Ira was surprised to find Kili was one of them. She must have gotten so used to the idea that he had trouble growing one that seeing him having to actually keep it shaved was such a neat little discovery. The first time she saw this she was tempted to ask for a knife so _she_ could shave, since by now she was sporting some gnarly leg and armpit hair. In the end she was not prepared to try hacking any off with a knife, so she just let it be. After the prickly stage it really wasn't all that bad anyways.

“Aye, we're finished now, lass. 'S your turn,” Balin said, striding over to sit next to Thorin while he tended his long white beard.

Ira hoisted herself to her feet, and carried her things to the bank. Glancing back, she saw all the dwarves plus Bilbo had their backs to her. Nodding to herself she began stripping.

The bank had a slight drop off into the water of the river, and without really thinking about it she took the first step in.

“Oh, my God!” she yelled in surprise, stumbling in the water trying to backtrack up onto land.

“Wha's tha'?”

“What happened?”

“Keep your eyes forward!”

“Ira, are you alright? What's wrong?”

“What's the meaning -”

“It's freezing!” she shouted. She turned back toward them, and whoever had been looking her way quickly swiveled their heads around.

“Enough. Get on with it,” Thorin barked. Ira flashed him her middle finger even though he couldn't see it.

“A little warning would have been appreciated,” she grumbled, loud enough for them to hear.

Thoroughly put out by now she glared at the water. There really was nothing to do about it other than get in, wash as fast as she could, and get the hell out and back to the fire. So she squared her shoulders, and stomped back into the river.

“Fuck. Oh, my God. That's so cold,” she couldn't help but rant. “Cold, cold, cold. Fuck.”

She washed as quickly as she could. It didn't take long before her fingers started to go numb, though, making her clumsy with the soap. Ira had to slow it down, and concentrate on her movements so she didn't accidentally drop and lose it down the river. By the time she was all done and washed, she was shivering so bad it hurt.

“Ye dinnae get swept up by the current now, did ye?” Dwalin called. Ira's teeth were chattering too much to bother with a come back, so she just grunted loudly.

She was having trouble getting dressed. Her hands were numb, and she just was shaking so much. The dwarves shuffled restlessly up where they were, all still facing the same direction.

“What's taking you so long?” Thorin griped.

“Exc-c-use me if-f-f elf clothes are a t-total pain in the ass,” she bit out. This got a chuckle or two out of them, now that they knew what that meant. Even having to still explain some of the things she said they _were_ getting better at understanding the seemingly ridiculous stuff that came out of her mouth.

Thirty or so minutes later, if she had to guess, she was finally completely dressed, and jogging her way back to where her stuff was on the ground. She yanked her cloak and blanket out violently, not caring if it made a bit of a mess with her extra sets of clothes, and bundled up next to the fire.

“Your lips are blue,” Ori said, and he sounded a little surprised at this for some reason. Ira gave a strained chuckle.

“'S what happens when y-you're c-cold-d,” she said, rocking a bit in place to help herself warm up. Ori, bless him, gave her a worried look, and sat as close to her as he could considering she wouldn't stop rocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently couldn't help myself this time. Oops?


	18. Drama's No Stranger To Middle Earth

It wasn't unusual for Ira to wake up several times after she had managed to fall asleep. She'd been doing it less often lately, figuring maybe she was finally starting to get a little used to living outside. So when she cracked her eyes open to stare up at the starry sky she didn't think much of it, and rolled over where she lay.

Then she noticed there was a strange noise in among the snores. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, assuming it might be a wild animal, or, shit, an _orc_ , but after a few moments of nothing bad happening, and a calmer brain she realized it didn't much sound like either of those things. Maybe it was the dwarf on watch. Ira propped herself up on an elbow, and tried to spot whoever it was on their turn. They were a black lump a little ways away from the rest of the group where they slept, but the sounds weren't coming from there. Looking over everyone on the ground she saw one of them shifting a bit in the dark.

“Fili? Is that you?” she asked quietly. It was too dark to really make him out, but she thought it kinda sounded like him. “Are you alright?”

Fili stilled the instant she said his name, and there was a muted thump as he dropped his head on the grass.

“'M fine, Ira. Go back to sleep.”

“But I heard - ”

“It's nothing, just go back to sleep,” he whispered. Kind of harshly, she thought. Ira made a face at him even though he probably couldn't see it, as dark as it was with the moon waning.

“Fine,” she hissed, and rolled over so her back was to him. It didn't take long for her anger to go away, and for her to fall back asleep.

The next day was like the others before it for the most part. More walking, more lunch stops, more bathroom breaks when there was anything tall enough sticking out of the ground to crouch behind. She had tried earlier that morning to apologize to Fili, and if she was honest with herself expecting him to apologize, too. Ira didn't know how exactly they seemed to have gotten on the wrong foot all of a sudden, but he'd been acting like a douche ever since last night. He did say sorry, but it felt awkward to her. For one thing he wouldn't even look at her when he spoke, and she was noticing he was staying as far away from her as possible while they hiked or stopped for breaks. What the actual hell.

Everything had become routine. It was kind of boring if she thought too much about it. The dwarves weren't as rowdy as they were when they started out, though they were still, well, dwarves. Nori would sometimes still slip something of someone's once in a while. He must have been bored, too. Balin would tell stories at night when they felt like singing, but were paranoid about drawing attention to themselves in such open fields. That at least was relaxing; Ira loved listening to him talk. Fili was sticking to his crappy behavior, and finally, after several days of the cold shoulder, she'd just stopped trying to play nice. It actually hurt her feelings when she would make a joke, and he would just turn away from her. Or she'd ask for help, and he'd tell her he was too busy, go ask someone else.

That particular day of endless walking Kili had been sticking to his brother's side the whole time, and sometimes she'd catch him glancing over at her, his brow furrowed. Ira figured maybe they were gossiping about her. She was distinctly sick of this shit by now.

Thorin called for camp about an hour before sundown. She helped Gloin and Oin get the fire going, and even Bofur with cutting up the vegetables for a stew. After everyone had eaten, and were all lounged about smoking pipes, she decided now was a good time to strike.

“Fili,” she said, striding on up to him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Fili looked up at her from where he sat on a large rock, a pipe in one hand. He frowned at her, hesitating, then nodded, scooted to the far end of his rock, and gestured to the other end for her to sit. Kili was nearby, dressing a rabbit he shot just before they'd stopped, and was watching closely.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Beg pardon?” Fili coughed, smoke coming out his mouth and nose. Must not have been expecting that.

“You're acting like a dick.” He sputtered again at her phrase. It always made them sort of fumble whenever she used words that referred to a dude's penis. Explaining the meaning, and various uses of said terms, had been fun times. “You've been avoiding me, ignoring me, or treating me like I'm in your way for days. If I did something, or if you've got a problem with me, we're all adults here. You can say it to my face,” she said. She watched him throw a helpless look to Kili, who only shrugged.

“No, lass. You didn't do nothin' wrong,” he said, inclining his head politely.

“So then what's the problem here?” Ira asked, frowning.

Fili pursed his lips, and stared down at his hands. She sat quietly, waiting for him to answer because she for sure as shit wasn't letting this go until he told her what was up. After several moments he looked back up at her, and his expression was such a mixture of so many different things she couldn't really pinpoint anything specific.

“I've just been very out of sorts, you could say,” he hedged. The look on her face must have been obvious enough to him that that had better not be all of his explanation. Fili sighed. “You don't know this, so I will tell you. Kili and I, we rarely ventured far from home, and I find myself... Stressed by the journey, is all. I truly do apologize for the way I've been acting, Miss Ira. It was unbecoming of me, and you did not deserve it.”

Ira could feel her face softening while he spoke. Oh, well then. She could sort of relate, and she didn't think he was lying. He sounded sincere, anyways.

Gesturing vaguely to the side to signify the crap he'd been pulling she asked hopefully, “so no more of this? We're good again?”

“Aye, we're good,” he said, smirking at the way she worded it. She returned his smirk with a grin, and tried doing what she'd seen the others do sometimes. She reached out and gripped his shoulder.

“Awesome!” She gave his shoulder a squeeze before letting go, and hopped off the rock. 

“Dinnae take no nonsense that one, eh?” Bofur chirped, eying Fili pointedly, and grinning at the scowl he got in return.

“'Course not!” Ira crowed, making Bofur and Kili chuckle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am profoundly conflicted with this chapter (i did not want to do this how did i get here i'm so sorry).
> 
> Three guesses on what just happened.


	19. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back?

The landscape was changing finally. They were leaving behind the more open, shrubby plains in favor of taller hills, more rocks. It was getting colder now, too. Ira hadn't been counting the days since they left Rivendell, so she didn't know how long they'd been out there, and she was too embarrassed to ask. It had to have been at least a month, though. Probably more. Her period had come and gone, and her feet weren't as bad off as those first several days of walking. They still hurt at the end of the day, but it wasn't enough to make her want to cry anymore. That had to mean they were toughening up.

It'd become a thing that when they stopped to make camp for the night, after helping gather firewood and whatever other little things she could do to not be a complete mooch, the others would try and teach her some swordsmanship. She didn't really feel like she was making any progress, but the more sociable and nicer dwarves assured her she was doing fine. For someone who's never even touched a sword before, anyways. Bilbo ended up being wrangled into it, too, so they both got lessons while the food was cooked and the sun was still up to give them light.

Slowly she was getting over being embarrassed about her lack of skills, too. Ira was profoundly thankful for that. It made actually concentrating on learning something from all this a lot easier, instead of focusing on being frustrated all the time. She was even getting to the point where she could have fun. She smiled and laughed more at her mistakes and successes, and everyone joined in when she did something particularly ridiculous or well. The sword didn't feel so strange in her hands anymore.

“Miss Ira,” Kili called one day. She trotted up to him, raising her eyebrows. “How about a hand at the bow? I know it's a bit small for you, but it's all we've got.”

“Um,” she said, blinking down at him. It was small. Very small. But why not? “Sure.”

Kili grinned, and demonstrated how to stand, load the string with an arrow and draw it back. When it was her turn she fumbled a lot with trying to stick the end of the arrow on the string the way he showed her. So they settled for just placing it there, and then she took a stance she thought might look like his. Kili stifled some laughter into his shoulder while looking at her, but nodded.

Then she tried to draw the string back, and nothing happened.

Ira tugged harder, and the string barely gave in. Fuck it, she thought, and put all four fingers on the string, pulling as hard as she could. Kili made a nervous sound next to her, reaching his hands out like he might need to catch her if she suddenly fell or something, but still the string hardly budged.

“...Okay,” she said. 

“Ah, it is a bit difficult...” Kili said, smiling at her kindly. Right now it just felt patronizing, but it was what it was, she supposed. “Maybe because it's so small?”

“Nah, let's be honest. I'm not strong enough to draw it. I mean, look at the difference in our arms,” she said, crouching down next to him, and unlacing her armguard to roll up her sleeve. That was kind of a pain in the ass since it was fairly skin-tight. Kili put his arrow back in the quiver strapped behind him, and set his bow down to roll his layers of sleeves up as far as he could, too. “See?”

“Aye, more now that they're next to each other,” he said, eyes glancing back and forth between their arms.

They were the difference between night and day, as cliché as that sounded. Ira's arm was skinny, only a few inches wide at her bicep, and tapered smoothly to a tiny wrist and small hand. Kili's arm was thick and meaty, bunching with muscle, not to mention a lot hairier. He was a dwarf, though, she thought, so that was to be expected.

“And your hands are so little,” he noted aloud, reaching out to get a better look. She let him take hold of one and held them up, palm to palm. “Short fingers, but still so skinny!” Kili said, grinning.

“Making fun of my hands, are we, master dwarf?” She smirked when he snorted at the name. He knew she was only calling him that because it's not something she would normally say.

“Nah, just observations.” 

Kili glanced up from their hands, and whatever he saw made him move away suddenly. He offered a kind smile as he rolled down his sleeves, and thanked her before picking up his bow, muttering something about the food being ready soon. Ira thought it was weird, but when she looked around for whatever had spooked him she didn't really see anything. Maybe Thorin glared disapprovingly at him or something. Ira rolled down her sleeve and tied her armguard back on. She hoped she wasn't about to get a visit from Mr. Deja Vu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From an outsiders point of view, no, it was not a look from Thorin that scared Kili away. That is all I will say for now.


	20. Feminine Wiles My Ass

There were patches of snow on the ground now. The air seemed thinner, too, with steeper and rockier hills. The mountains that were in the distance weeks ago were looming over her head. Ira figured they must be getting closer to the time they'd have to survive the rock giants.

Ira'd been getting slightly lightheaded lately. Probably due to the thinner air. It actually made her feel a little giddy, even if she needed to stop to catch her breath more often. Sometimes it got to the point in her sword wielding lessons where she had to wait several moments to giggle like a girly idiot. Usually over something innocent enough on its own, but easily taken as inappropriate.

Kili, after that awkward moment comparing their hands, gave her some space, though he didn't outright avoid her or anything like Fili had. He was still funny, lively and helpful, like he was before, but still. Somehow... It was like there was a gap there that wasn't before that moment. It kind of made her sad, like it was Fili all over again. Ira thought if she didn't stop overstepping these invisible boundaries like she must be doing she was going to end up alienating every last dwarf, and possibly Bilbo, before the end of this adventure.

Maybe it was time to ask one of them the do's and don't's of dwarf etiquette.

“Balin,” she said cheerfully one evening when things had settled down after supper, and everyone had either pulled out their pipes to smoke or chatted quietly about various dwarfy things. “Is it okay if we took a walk?” 

Balin raised his bushy white eyebrows, and blew out his pipe smoke. “Sure thing, lass.” Maybe he sensed this was to be a private conversation. All she could really think was how awesome it was that he didn't ask her to explain before they were out of ear-shot of the rest of the group.

“Now then, what's this about, hmm?” he asked amiably. They strode around the rocks, careful of where they stepped so they didn't tumble down a rocky hill.

“I hope I'm not being rude,” Ira started, and again Balin rose his eyebrows, looking up at her. Okay, so she wasn't normally this mindful of her manners. She could give him that one. “But I was hoping you could tell me more about appropriate behavior. I get the feeling I'm... making some of the company uncomfortable, but I don't know what I'm doing wrong.”

“This is about young Fili and Kili, is it not?” Balin puffed on his pipe, grinning. Ira smiled sheepishly and nodded.

“Well, yeah. But I don't want it to spread to the others. Nip it in the bud, you could say,” she said. Balin hummed in agreement.

“Well, lass... That's t'say, you're not exactly doin' anythin' wrong, but... How t'explain this,” he muttered. Balin wasn't usually so at a loss for words, but Ira waited patiently. “Forgive me for bein' candid, m'dear, but ye are a beauty all in your own right. It's jus' gettin' to the younger ones a bit is all,” he chuckled.

Well this was unexpected.

“I thought Ori was the youngest...” was all she could think to say in the face of _that_. “Besides,” she added suddenly. “I'm human, and apparently I look like an elf. That can't be up your guys' alley as far as attraction goes.” Nevermind that Kili apparently had a thing for elf women, ahem.

“Ye've the way of it there, usually. But the lads, see, they've been a sheltered pair of boys, an' traveling about as they have lately... A lad becomes susceptible to a feminine presence, dwarrowdam or no,” Balin said, puffing his pipe again. “An' Ori is young, but our two troubled brothers are younger yet. Barely of age, really, but tried an' true nonetheless.”

They continued on at their slow pace quietly for a short while, Ira taking this all in. Okay, so a guy gets lonely out in the wild, that's not so hard to understand. She was the only girl in the group, and if she thought hard enough she supposed she could remember Fili and Kili being one of the few whose heads had been turned during her moment at the river...

Like a lightning strike Ira realized what Fili must have been doing that night she heard the strange noises. Why he was so intent on her leaving him alone and going back to sleep.

_Oh_. Well shit, no wonder he'd been so testy.

“So,” she said, face warm, and her voice sounded a little creaky so she cleared her throat to fix it. “How do I, uh... not cross any lines?”

“Well, aside from the obvious,” Balin intoned, giving her a pointed look. “There's really not much t'be done. You're one lass in the company of lads. There's bound to be little incidents where things get awkward,” he chuckled. Must be thinking about the river, she thought. “My advice would to jus' nae do anything outrageously unbecoming of a sweet girl such as yourself. They'll get over it soon enough.”

Balin mentioned returning to the fire, so Ira thanked him and watched him go. Vague instructions when she didn't know exactly what she'd done to get to this point in the first place, but if what Balin said was true, then it wasn't anything she was actively doing. Just her being female was enough of the problem (and didn't that kind of rankle). Ira thought back to what she knew about how attraction works. Pheromones or something, right? Were dwarves even able to pick up that sorta thing from other races? Maybe if she could bathe more often, just to be sure...

She went back to camp before anyone thought she'd been eaten by mountain lions or something. Ira hunkered down by a tall rock with a mostly flat side, leaning back against it. Her mind wandered a bit while she sat there staring at the fire, content to keep to herself. Dwalin, that irritable douchenozzle, made a quip about her blessed lack of giggling for once, and she absentmindedly flipped him the bird. Surprisingly he chuckled at her for it, along with several others. Thorin called bedtime soon after.

Since it was colder out now, doubly so at night, they'd all been regularly huddling close to keep warm. Ira made sure to curl up between someone that wasn't Ori, Fili or Kili. But also not Dwalin, because no, or Thorin, because hell no. Bombur, bless his silent, sweet soul, but he smelled too strongly of cheese for her to tolerate having her nose nearly pressed into him. In the end she was nestled between Bilbo and Bofur, both of whom she got along with well. Warm, if not entirely comfortable sleeping on a rocky ground, she eventually managed to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It could be a lot worse.


	21. A New Respect For Goats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very sorry for leaving this story high and dry for so long. I was in the middle of moving, and was not anticipating being without Internet as soon or for as long as I was. Finally have it back, so more updates to come. Actually, we're coming to the close of part 1 of this series. Time for some action!

Ira didn't think much of it when they apparently made it to the foot of the mountain. It wasn't like walking up to a wall and getting on with it, but the steady incline was still a pain in the ass. And the higher they went the more _actual_ climbing they had to do. By then at least her boots had been broken in somewhat, so she could feel around with her feet better than before. Still, she was in a constant state of fear ever since she first looked down a drop while hugging the mountain side.

“'S alright, lass,” Gloin said below her. “Jus' watch where we put our hands an' feet, an' follow us up, nice an' easy. That's good.”

She could only muster a wry chuckle followed by a whimper when she fumbled a bit with the next foothold. There were no ropes, no metal spikes pounded into the rocks to tether themselves to and catch them if they fell. It was all gripping, numb fingers and firm toes the whole way up, and it was a long ass way up. How did goats fucking do this? Honestly.

After what was literally forever, Ira was sure, the front line of the company reached a sort of narrow ledge. The sun was getting low in the sky, so it would be dusk in only an hour or two. Then the rain and the giants. Goodie.

Ira hauled herself up onto the ledge, and scooted as close to the mountain side as much as possible. She was lightheaded again, and things were getting a little spinny, making her vaguely afraid she could just misstep off the edge and fall. Catching her breath, she got to her feet slowly, and followed the dwarves in front of her.

There wasn't any talk going on. Probably because if you wanted to really be heard you had to shout, which they did do if they wanted to warn the others down the line of anything. The pace picked up a bit now that they were walking again, though they were still careful not to make any mistakes. The clouds were rolling in right on schedule.

During the climb it felt like time had stopped. Everything seemed to take three times as long, but on that ledge it apparently felt like switching things up. Now it was like each time she blinked someone had pressed the forward button on their TV remote. The sun set on the first blink, and the rain came pelting down on the second. The wind was freezing, whipping her hair into her eyes and getting stuck on her face. Ira tugged her cloak about her tightly, trying to keep even the tiniest bit warmer.

She thought she'd have a heart attack the first time she slipped on the ledge. For the most part it was pretty okay, but the rain made the moss growing in places as slick as oil, and the first patch of it her foot found put her heart in her throat. Somebody was slacking on the job; not a single WET FLOOR sign was in sight. 

The thin mountain air had to be playing tricks on her brain, because time flipped yet again. Now their shuffling on the ledge was as endless as the hiking that got them here. It felt like she'd been trudging along for hours before she finally heard it.

“Look out!” 

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Oh shit, oh God.

Ira was rooted to the spot, just as they all were, while she watched an immeasurable chunk of rock fly through the air and into their mountain right above their heads. Slowly at first, and then with gaining speed, the avalanche of boulders that broke free from the impact came raining down towards them. Everyone yelled a warning, pressing as close to the rocky wall as much as possible. Some were holding their weapons over them, hoping it would deflect any fatal hits.

And then the stone giants emerged. She watched, mouth open and catching rainwater, as the mountain next to them lifted itself up. It split apart into a vaguely humanoid shape, jagged shoulders and hands outlined in the lightening strikes of the storm.

“The legends are true... Giants! Stone giants!”

Bofur, you fucking idiot, get away from the edge, she thought to herself. The stone giant across the valley took hold of the tip of its mountain, wrenched it free, and tossed it in their direction again. It sailed passed them, and as they turned to watch it go, they saw the second giant behind them get hit with it.

“Take cover, you fool!” Thorin yelled. The two on either end of Bofur yanked him back towards the rock face.

“Hold on!”

A second wave of boulders fell down over them, and they chiseled away at the edge of their ledge, making it thinner and thinner. Ira was crying at this point, she was so scared. It didn't seem to matter that she knew they would all make it to the cave.

Then the mountain rumbled under their feet, moreso than when the ledge was peppered with rocks, and began to split apart.

“Kili!” Ira screamed. “Oin! Bombur! Guys!”

“Grab my hand!” Fili yelled, but it was too late. The mountain had split too far apart for them to reach each other.

They all staggered as the giant moved. The one behind them stomped close, and smashed its head into the giant they were all standing on. It leaned, falling slowly to the side. Landing against another mountain it threw them all into the rock face, and then everyone on Kili's side of the giant was running to jump off its kneecap. Unfortunately they just traded one leg for another.

It was a free for all now with the giants from what she could see through the rain and lightning. More mountain chunks sailed through the air, crashing into stone bodies. Punches were thrown, and boulders were tumbling down around them. A fist crashed into a jaw, and the booming sound it made drowned out the thunder from the sky.

The group she was with watched in fear as Kili's band went on by right in front of them.

“They'll be okay. They'll be alright. They're fine. They're fine,” Ira chanted to herself, her words lost to the crashing sounds of the stone giants fighting and the rain.

The other's giant took a lethal hit, and started falling. In some kind of surreal slow motion, they watched and yelled as it bent over backwards, its legs bowing, and bringing the rest of the company closer to them. But then the giant's fall accelerated, smashing them into a stationary mountain ahead of them.

“They're okay, they're okay,” she kept chanting.

Thorin rushed along the ledge, the others right behind him. Ira brought up the rear with Bilbo.

“They're alright,” Thorin shouted, relief plain in his voice.

Then Bilbo slipped over the edge.

He managed to catch a firm hold on the ledge, and Ira screamed again.

“Help!” She was crouching down, reaching for his jacket or pack. She was afraid if she yanked on his hands any he'd lose his grip. “Bilbo!”

The dwarves rushed in, reaching down to grab anything of him they could, but Bilbo's hands slipped in the rain and he fell again, only to catch the next piece of rock sticking out. He looked up into Ira's eyes, his own wide with panic, and a stunned desperation. Ira couldn't do anything but kneel there and hold eye contact. 

Thorin leapt down and onto the mountain side below them. Gripping Bilbo tightly with the hand not clutching a rock and grunting, he hauled him up high enough for everyone to get a hold of him and pull. Laying belly down on the ledge she helped the others drag him over and up to safety.

Later, she wouldn't know how or why, maybe it was because she knew it was coming, but when Thorin slipped she was the first to catch him.

She snagged his forearm, her grip as tight as she could make it. He was heavy, so heavy, and she slid along the ledge on her stomach until her boot-tips caught in a pit in the rocks, effectively hooking her in place. Thorin gave a shout, and he twisted in the air. Ira yelled with the effort not to let go and the pain bursting to life in her shoulder. His grasp felt bone-crushing, he was holding on so firmly.

Dwalin swooped in a second later, and his strength made it possible to bring Thorin up and away from the edge.

There were several moments then where everyone just sat or crouched along the ledge, catching their breath, and letting it sink in that nobody had died.

“I thought we lost our burglar,” Bofur said over the rain, the thunder of the giants having faded while they'd been busy not letting anybody fall. Nobody mentioned thinking they lost their leader.

“He's been lost,” Thorin said, looking down at Bilbo disdainfully, “ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us.”

The look on Bilbo's face broke Ira's heart.

She stepped in front of Thorin to block his path. Adrenalin was still pumping in her veins, and she was going to damn well use it while it lasted.

“Out of my way, girl,” Thorin growled, staring her down though she was taller.

“Take it back,” she growled back down at his face. Thorin puffed up threateningly.

“You are no one to tell me what to do. You are the same as him,” he raised his voice, gesturing back to Bilbo.

“It could have been _anyone_ hanging over that ledge,” she went on, ignoring that because it was completely irrelevant right now. “It could have been Ori, or Bombur, and if it was you wouldn't have said any of that shit to them, would you? _Would you_? No,” she yelled, preventing him from speaking. “And the next time you want to tell someone where their place is, don't do it to the one that caught your hand first when _you_ slipped on the side of a mountain yourself.”

“I would not have been in any danger of falling had it not been for him!” Thorin shouted up at her. He was as close to her face as he could get without bumping bodies. And okay, she wasn't used to that, so she shrank back a little.

“Are you blind? Are you stupid? We were all in danger just now; of having the ledge crumble away under our feet; of being crushed by fucking giant rock people,” she said, but it didn't seem to be working. None of what she was saying looked to be getting through. All she saw in Thorin's eyes was anger and pride. “Whatever, dude. Next time I won't fucking bother, how about that.”

Thorin stormed passed her, and called for Dwalin. Ira was panting again from her fight with Thorin. If she could do it, and still live to talk about it, she'd have punched him right in his Goddamn face.

The others were helping those not already standing to their feet, and they all made their way to the cave she knew Thorin found. Ira waited where she stood, some dwarves looking at her in a sort of new light, though she couldn't say what it might have been. A few reached out to grip her shoulder as they walked by and into the cave.

“Bilbo...” she breathed, looking at him sadly.

“It's – it's quite alright, Miss Ira,” he told her, shaking his head, and going into the cave, too. She was the last to follow.

Inside she leaned up against a wall, watching everyone settle after everything that just happened. Gloin, bless his soul, went around gathering whatever wood there was to be had for a fire. Normally she would have helped, but since she knew Thorin was going to ban fires tonight, she didn't. Instead she rubbed at her shoulder, the pain gone but it felt a little tender now.

For the first time ever Ira took watch with Bofur. They never really trusted her with watch duty, seeing as she had the senses of a brick, and though she was tired after everything that happened, she wouldn't be getting any sleep. She knew they were all lying on trap floors. She knew the goblins would capture them some time in the night. There was no way she could sleep knowing that.

Even without a fire it was surprisingly warm in the cave. A cold breeze drifted in through the entrance once in a while, but really, considering they were all up in a mountain right now, Ira could hardly complain. She sat next to Bofur, sliding her back down against the rock wall, and leaned her head on his shoulder. He didn't seem to begrudge her this comfort, and wrapped a thick, dwarfy arm around her shoulder, leaning his head back on her.

It didn't take long to start hearing snores drift up and echo about the cave.


	22. Quite Literally The Deep Breath Before The Plunge

Bilbo didn't wait as long as she thought he would before he tried sneaking off. Soon after everyone had fallen asleep he was up and collecting his things. Bofur hadn't noticed yet.

“Bofur...” Ira whispered as quietly as possible. “Don't take what he says personally, okay?”

Bofur looked over at her from his nail picking, brows furrowed in confusion, and then Bilbo started tiptoeing around everybody on the ground towards the cave entrance.

“Where d'you think you're going?” Bofur asked quietly. Bilbo stopped, wilting at being caught, or at having to explain himself, she wasn't sure.

She knew what they were going to say, but still, hearing them talking... it made her sad. Bofur had gotten to his feet to make his way over to Bilbo, and their voices were so soft and low. Ira chanced a glance at Thorin where he was lying down, but she couldn't see his face from her spot. She knew he was hearing every word though. 

“...not belonging anywhere!” Bilbo said, his voice getting louder by the end. There was an awkward silence while he realized what he'd said. “Look, I – I'm sorry,” he stuttered, staring down at his feet. 

“No, you're right,” Bofur nodded a little, and then turned to look back at his friends, his family, as they lie on the ground. In the sand, in a cave, on a long journey far from a stolen home. “We don't belong anywhere.”

He glanced at Ira, and he looked so sad, but his lips twitched in an effort at a smile that never quite made it. He knew now why she'd said what she did only moments ago.

“I wish you all the luck in the world,” Bofur told Bilbo. “I really do.” 

Ira's heartbeat sped up, and she broke out into a sweat. It was like knowing that first drop at the top of a roller coaster was coming, only five times worse. Here it comes.

Here _they_ come.

“What's that?” she heard Bofur say distractedly, and Bilbo lifted a glowing Sting from its sheath in confusion. Ira watched Bilbo's face dawn with realization, slowly lifting his head up, and he looked at her with growing fear. She stared back, her eyes wide, just as afraid.

She heard it then. A slight rumble, a tiny creak. Then the sand began to sink between the cracks of the trapdoors as the ground dipped a little.

“Wake up,” Thorin called. Nobody moved. He kicked the nearest dwarf with his foot. “Wake up!”

Everyone was stirring awake now. The ground pitched, and the clanking noises from below them grew louder.

Then the floor disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, quiet, and filler-y, but necessary.


	23. She Officially Hates Goblins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter I placed the rape/non-con warning on my story for. I don't want to spoil what actually happens, but I hope nobody's disappointed with how this worked out.

The dwarves yelled as they fell, but Ira couldn't get her voice out after her stomach was forced into another place in her body. It was like having something stuffed in her throat. For several terrifying seconds of free fall she was mute, then they all landed on something painfully solid, and the impact forced a strangled noise from her.

She rolled down along with the rest of them, bumping into rocky walls or stray elbows and flailing feet. Someone kicked her in the head with a metal toed boot, and if it weren't for her elven clothes and armor she was sure she'd have broken something by now.

They were gaining speed now. Zipping down the tunnel like the crappiest slide she's ever been on, their voices bounced around her head, and she was too dizzy to make heads or tails of up and down. She never saw the end coming so the next thing she knew was intense pain in her chest and ribs as she landed on a wooden platform, the wind knocked out of her.

Dwarves were landing all around her and on her, which didn't help with the fact that she couldn't breathe for the moment. Tears stung her eyes with the effort to gasp in _something_. They were all groaning except her.

She wouldn't have time to catch her breath just yet. The goblins swarmed them. Their grubby hands grappled at anything they could get a hold of; legs, arms, hair, clothes, and the company was yanked forwards. Ira, being taller than both hobbits and dwarves, and definitely than these hunched goblins, stumbled, falling to her knees a few times as she was pulled in a downward direction due to their short stature.

Ira wheezed in tiny amounts of air at first, finally, as they were all being hauled along the wooden pathway, goblins snarling and squealing in her ears. The dwarves were shouting their displeasure, but it was such a chaotic jumble of noise right now she couldn't make out anything specific. They gave what for, punching and kicking, but Ira was too focused on trying to fill her lungs with air to really struggle.

_Bilbo_.

She yanked herself out of the grip of the goblin attached to her to turn and look back, but they were too far along now for her to see where they'd landed, where Bilbo was left behind. Ira told herself he'd be okay, she would see him again, and another goblin shoved her from behind to move along again.

All of them were pushed and pulled by the mob through the goblin city. It smelled so, so bad, now that she could use her lungs again. Bats screeched as they flew off and away from the commotion they were causing. Ira stumbled often, but she forced her way as close to Ori as she could while they were being taken to the goblin king. She couldn't do anything, not really, but she wasn't going to let him stand alone in the face of that bastard's threats.

The stench hit her like a wave, making her gag, as they were shoved into a cavernous room. There was once, when she lived out in the country, that she'd found the body of a rotting deer. It smelled a lot like that, plus when a greasy fat dude sits next to you on the bus and the AC's broken. Goblin voices echoed everywhere, the edges of the walls teeming with pale bodies clambering to get a better look at them.

They were all shoved into a tight group, fingers snatching and pawing at their bodies to take away any weapons they could find. Ira's sword was ripped from her belt, and she made to grab it back, but a nearby goblin punched her in the stomach, making her double over and cough.

“Ira!” she heard Fili shout, and the dwarves between him and her parted a little so he could squeeze his way through to her. Surprisingly she didn't see Kili with him.

“'M fine,” she grumbled, standing up a little straighter and holding her stomach.

Ira scanned the backs of the heads of the dwarves until she spotted Kili where he was standing close to Thorin. Then she looked up to the goblin king where he was sat on his ugly pile of bones for a throne. He was no Jareth, that was for sure. He was huge, even compared to her, with a body made mostly of belly. His skin was a sickly pale, but red and raw in places, boils or pus bubbles or something shining in the torchlight.

“Who would be so bold as to come armed into _my_ kingdom?” he demanded, stepping down from his throne and spitting as he talked. “Spies? Thieves? _Assassins_?!”

“Dwarves, your Malevolence,” a goblin in front said. “And a she-elf.”

She really ought to be used to that by now.

“Dwarves? She-elf?”

“We found'em on the front porch.”

“Well, don't just stand there!” the goblin king shouted. “Search them! Every crack! Every crevice!”

They were swarmed again. Every goblin within arms reach was yanking on anything they could get their fingers on, except...

There was a shit-ton more groping going on in her case.

“What the fuck, get off me!” Ira shouted, shoving hands off her. Ori and Fili, the ones on her sides, caught on to what was happening, and ignored the search going on with them in favor of helping fend off goblins touching her.

“What are you doing in these parts?” big, fat and ugly asked, looking them over with round, watery eyes. The smaller goblins stilled as he spoke. Nobody said a thing. “Speak!”

Still nothing. She knew was what coming now. Reaching out she gripped Ori's shoulder, and pressed herself closer to him. He glanced up at her, fear in his eyes, and then back ahead at the goblin king.

“Very well,” he said, shaking a pointed finger at them. “If they won't talk, we'll make them squawk! Bring up the Mangler! Bring up the Bone-Breaker. Who should we start with?”

Goblins shouted and screeched preferences. She heard an awful lot of them yelling 'she-elf'.

“Yes, it's not often we get visitors, much less females,” the goblin king intoned, eying her critically. “Too thin, too small, but I think she'll do. I'll even bet she squawks the loudest.” And then he grinned wide, giggling as he looked her up and down.

That was definitely _not_ in the movie.

Ira went cold, like someone had dumped ice over her head, and she made to take a step back, but there was a wall of touchy-feely goblins behind her. Fili reached out to wrap an arm around her and pull her closer to him, his face red with anger. She gripped his coat sleeve tightly with one hand, the other clinging to Ori still. The others shouted and tried to surge forward, but were beaten back again.

“No?” The goblin king said, a sweetly surprised expression on his face. “Shall we start with the youngest, then?” And here was where he looked at Ori, just like he'd done in the movie. Standing behind him as she was she could only see the top of his head, but she knew what Ori's face looked like in that moment. Ira slipped the hand on his shoulder down over his chest protectively, and pulled him closer again.

“Wait!” Thorin shouted, _finally_. He stepped forward through the company so he could be seen better. The goblin king eyed him with interest.

“Well, well, well! Look who it is,” the king said, gesturing in front of himself. “Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror; King Under the Mountain.” He bowed mockingly to him.

Thorin simply said nothing as several goblins cackled.

“Oh, but I'm forgetting you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king,” he breathed, pitying expression on his face. “Which makes you nobody, really.”

She could feel the anger in how everyone was tensing up at the goblin king's words, and yet still nobody said anything. Ira kept her own mouth shut.

She shifted her weight between her feet restlessly, and Fili, still keeping her pressed to his side, tightened his grip momentarily at the news of Azog not being dead after all. She had to wonder how long they would be trapped here. Bilbo's scene with Gollum had to take a little while, right? Nothing had happened to the company while the movie's focus was on Bilbo, but the reaction to her being there had her confidence in knowing what was really about to happen drain right between her metaphorical fingers.

The king gave an order, and his little messenger cackled as he string-lined himself away to do as his king bid. Being so unsure of what was to come until Gandalf saved all their asses made her palms sweaty. She was confused about King Fat's threat earlier. The closest the movies ever got to any sort of sexual harassment was Wormtongue's scene with Eowyn, right? So where the hell did outright rape come from?

What was _really_ happening? The tone of the entire journey had been shifting somehow right under her nose. When she started out the only thing Ira had to worry about was the fact that she was under dressed, and unprepared to travel halfway around Middle Earth. Now she had to deal with not accidentally seducing dwarves or dying a really fucking horrible death via goblin dick. Life as a woman here didn't have a lot of perks so far. If the social justice warriors back on the Internet at home could see this...

No, but this is serious, Ira thought to herself. The goblin king gave her another leer before turning away and shouting, 'where are my torture devices?' Then he started singing about what he planned to do to all of them. He had a really high pitched voice for a monster his size.

Several goblins suddenly reached out and grabbed her, yanking her away from Fili and Ori and the rest of the dwarves. A few of them tried to keep her from being tugged away, but then they had their own sets of claws keeping them back. Ira was moved across the platform over to the throne. They kicked at the back of her legs to make her knees buckle so she was forced to kneel facing the company.

“Don't touch'er!”

“Let her go!”

“Ira!”

“Lass, no!”

They all shouted, trying to break free from the goblins surrounding them, but they were outnumbered. The goblin king kept singing and dancing, the masses on platforms and bridges throughout the cavern shouting and stamping along to his crappy tune. She made to dive for a sword laying on the ground nearby, and got a grubby paw slapped across her face for her troubles, claws making her cheek bleed. Three goblins kept her in check after that, their grip tight around her arms and shoulders, fingers holding her hair or digging into her scalp.

Off behind the company she could see something moving towards them, and when it got closer she recognized the medieval looking things they were meant to be tortured with. Ira started hyperventilating as they were carried closer still. She couldn't watch anyone being strung up on those things. If it killed her she would fight to her last breath before that ever happened.

A piercing scream broke through all the noise of the cavern. Ira looked over as a goblin threw down Thorin's sword, tripping over his feet to scramble away from it. The goblin king himself trampled over his own people to get further away from it on the platform.

“I know that sword!” he cried, fear making his voice crack. “It is the Goblin Cleaver. The Biter! The blade that sliced a thousand goblin necks. Slash them! Kill them! _Kill them all_!”

It was a frenzy. Goblins were lashing the dwarves with ropes, chains, or actual whips. Beating them with fists and rocks, stomping on them if they fell. Ira screamed. They were on her now, too. She was yanked down to her stomach, and when she flailed, rolling over on her back, several of them grabbed and held her down by her arms, hips and legs. Her chest was elevated awkwardly with her pack still strapped behind her, and her head hung in the empty space above it.

They started clawing at her clothes. She couldn't hear them ripping, but when they made it through the thinner parts she definitely felt it. Ira tried to kick them off her, but she could barely squirm. Not bothering with the leather ties, they were trying to shred open the leggings on her thighs, and others still were trying to yank the armor on her chest off.

Ira thrashed where she lay ,but she just couldn't _move_ , damn it! Her eyes were squeezed shut while trying to break free, but when she opened them she saw a goblin standing over her, legs on either of her shoulders. He was fondling himself, and the thought of _is he going to sit on my face?_ flashed through her mind. She turned her head to the side, really hoping that was not about to happen.

“Cut off his head!”

“No! Thorin!” Ira screeched. “Gandalf!”

A goblin shoved his fingers in her mouth to shut her up. She bit down on him as hard as she could, and he squealed, pulling them away. She tasted what she assumed was goblin blood, and tried to spit it out. Mostly it just dribbled down her chin.

“Pry her jaw open,” the goblin above her hissed, and she felt long, clawed fingers squeezing her face painfully, making her open her mouth. They squeezed harder and pulled her hair if she tried to shut it.

There was an explosion. The goblins on top of her were blown off, and she was blinded by a white light. Ira instantly rolled over onto her side, curling up into a ball and covering her ears. Everything was muffled now, all but the ringing in her head, and she lifted it up to see what was going on.

“About Goddamn time,” she sobbed, seeing Gandalf walking closer, his sword drawn and staff held high.

“Take up arms,” Gandalf said, seeing the dwarves' disorientated and confused looks. “Fight. _Fight_!”

He so did not need to tell her again. Especially since her hearing was coming back.

Ira crawled towards her sword on the platform, and hastily strapped it back to her hip while everyone was still dazed. The dwarves were snapping out of it quickly though, and they reached for their weapons yelling. Ira drew her sword.

The goblins were on their feet and running at them now. She swung her sword like it was a baseball bat at one coming right at her, and felt it catch in his body before sailing right through it, cutting him in two. Ira staggered when her blade came free, and the momentum of her swing kept it going, but she righted herself and jabbed the tip of it at another goblin. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic and fear. She couldn't really remember any of the things she learned during her lessons with the dwarves, and resorted to hacking and slashing whenever a goblin came too close to her. If blood splattered on her, she hardly noticed.

The exits were blocked by goblins, and they all worked at clearing the way. Ira had to jump to the side when the goblin king stumbled back from a block by Thorin's sword, and she watched him go over the side. In her distraction a goblin jumped on her back and was trying to cut her throat with his claws.

“Get off me!” she shouted, words garbled with a face full of fingers. Suddenly she felt a massive thump as its body was pushed into her back, making her stagger forward, and then it slid off.

“Let's go!” Gloin yelled, yanking his axe out of the goblin that'd been clinging to her. Ira swiveled around to face him, and saw another goblin waddling up behind him while his attention was still on her. Without thinking Ira shoved her sword passed Gloin to stab him through the chest. Gloin turned where he stood, and slammed a fist in the goblin's face, unsticking his body from her blade for her.

“That's how it's done, lass!” he cheered. For an instant she thought of Gimli and Legolas and their constant competing with body counts and trying to out-do each other. She offered Gloin a shaky smile. Gripping her elbow Gloin tugged her out of her thoughts, heading over to the rest of the group as they started rushing through a gap in the crowd.

They ran after Gandalf through the city on rickety wooden walkways. Everything was deserted at first, but when Ira looked back she saw the goblins were coming fast. They were spilling over the walls and along the bridges after them. In a matter of moments they caught up to the dwarves, and all hell broke loose.

The line they had formed running was forced to break apart now that they were trying to fend off a horde of goblins. Dwarves were twirling around, slashing and bashing anything that was trying to kill them, and yet they couldn't stop moving. It was the hardest thing Ira had ever had to do in her life. There was just so much to pay attention to; where she stepped; not fall behind; accidentally sticking her sword in a dwarf instead of a goblin; not accidentally get in the line of someone _else's_ weapon. She wasn't cut out for this.

Ira remembered thinking the fighting in the movie was ridiculous, that none of it was very plausible, even if it was funny sometimes, but there was nothing funny or ridiculous about this. Dwalin cut free a log tied to a post on the path they were on, and they all grabbed hold of it, sweeping the goblins in front of them on the bridge over the sides. When it was clear for the moment they dropped the log without even stopping.

There was a snarl behind her, and when she turned to look a goblin leapt at her face. She brought her sword up just in time to slash at his ribs, and he screamed, blood pouring out of him and down her blade to drip off the handguard. Her sword had gotten stuck in his side, and he staggered, screeching and reaching for her. She kicked him clumsily. He came free and toppled to the ground where he curled up clutching his side.

Don't leave him alive to come back, she thought. Ira didn't have the luxury of weighing the severity of her actions; she just sank her sword into his neck, and watched him flail for a few seconds, blood gurgling out of his mouth.

When she turned back around the dwarves were way ahead of her. She'd fallen behind.

“Shit, fuck. Fuck,” she babbled, slashing at another goblin that landed in front of her. He dodged the first swing, but he wasn't expecting her to thrust the flat end of the blade into his face. He staggered back, clutching his nose, and lost his footing over the edge. Ira sprinted ahead to close the space between her and the company, but another goblin blocked her path again.

“Dunnae stop, lass!” Balin shouted, suddenly behind her goblin. He whacked the bastard in the head, distracting him, and Ira shoved her sword through his middle. The goblin stepped off of her blade, and Balin hit him hard enough to push him over the walkway. “This way, c'mon!”

With Balin swinging his hunk of wood, distracting and dazing goblins, and Ira finishing them off with her sword, they managed to catch up to the others. By now, though, they were so spread out just trying to survive as goblin after goblin came after them all.

Something whistled by her head, and she turned to see archers firing arrows at them. Nearby Kili was backing away frantically, holding his sword up to deflect them.

“Kili, the ladder!” she shouted. He glanced at her for less than a second, then to his left and yeah, there was the ladder he was going to find any moment anyways. He snatched it up and used it as a shield, like in the movie, and she'll laugh at that later (much later), but right now she was feeling impatient.

“No, drop it on their heads!” she yelled.

He did. Everyone else rushed in to grab Kili's end of the ladder. When they pushed forward it forced the goblins stuck in the rungs to shuffle backwards, and they fell down the gap in the walkway. Dropping the ladder to make a bridge, they stepped hurriedly across to rejoin Gandalf and the others. He directed them onward.

Then they came to a dead end. She was too busy looking over the side, down at the drop when the wood beneath her feet lurched, and they all swung forward. Ira staggered, and Gandalf reached out to help steady her.

“Jump!” Thorin yelled as soon as they all swung close enough to the next platform.

Her feet were rooted to the spot though, and she hesitated too long. A few dwarves made it before the rest of them began to swing back the way they came. The goblins were waiting for them, and they hopped on the second they were within range.

There was no helping it this time. When they came back around everyone jumped. Fili cut the rope holding the goblins behind them up. They all fell squealing.

Everything was endless. She was so out of breath, and her grip on her sword was barely enough to keep it from dropping now. Sweat was rolling down her face and stinging her eyes. The goblins just kept coming. They jumped at them, snarling, and she tried swinging at one, but it was so slow moving he just shoved the blade away angrily. Whoever was behind her ended up being the one to get rid of that goblin.

They made it to the rocky ledge now, at least. She wheezed and pushed herself to keep up. Ahead of them she saw Gandalf break off a large boulder from the protruding wall, and forcefully rolled it ahead of them to clear their path. It battered and crushed several goblins before rolling off the side of a sharp bend in their path, and when they rounded it they were back on a wooden bridge.

She noted the distinct lack of goblins as they kept on, and for a moment she forgot what was going to happen. The thought of finally, _finally_ getting out of there was so profound she could have sang.

The bridge shuddered under her feet, and the sound of it breaking apart made her flinch. She gave a startled cry as the goblin king burst up in front of them. Behind them goblins swiftly piled up, making a retreat impossible.

“You thought you could escape _me_?” the goblin king stared at Gandalf, then swung his grisly scepter down, trying to crush him.

Gandalf hastily stepped back, dodging another swing from the king, and he stumbled into the two foremost dwarves. 

“What are you going to do now, wizard?!” the king cried.

Ori and Nori heaved Gandalf back up to his feet, and the wizard thrust the end of his staff at the king's face, smashing it into his eye.

“ _Ow_!”

Howling and clutching his injured eye, the goblin king stumbled back, exposing his fat belly. Gandalf swung his sword wide, slashing open the king's gut, and he howled again. Falling to his knees, he held his stomach, staring down at it like he'd never seen it before. Then he looked up at Gandalf, a thoughtful expression overtaking his face.

“That'll do it,” he nodded.

Gandalf swung again, and the last sound the goblin king would make is an awful, choked garble. Dying now, his head crashed down onto the bridge, making it lurch. Trembling violently as whatever was still holding it up was breaking, they sank down slowly before the bridge broke free of the ledge and they all fell, leaving the goblins behind.

Everyone was yelling. This time Ira's voice wasn't locked up in her throat, and she yelled along with them, hers considerably higher in pitch than theirs. Bizarrely, their fall on the wooden platform made her think of Sophie and Calcifer as they had slid down the hill in their movie on a wooden platform just like hers.

“This is some Howl's Moving Castle bullshit right here!” she shouted. Nobody bothered to ask her what the hell that meant. They were all too busy watching the floor of the cavern rise up at them.

Sliding down one side of a funnel in the rocks they met the other side with a jarring bang. Ira was intimately wrapped around a pole attached to the bridge, and it whacked her against the head from the impact. She tasted blood as she was forced to bite her cheek. The walls were closing in, and the edges of their bridge were scraping against both sides of the cavern. Finally they crashed to the ground relatively softly, all things considered.

They all groaned, dust and wood chips raining down on them here and there. Gandalf rose out of a pile of planks like he was some kind of untouchable angel. 

“Well, that coulda been worse,” Bofur chirped. Oh, Christ.

“Bofur, no,” Ira whimpered, wriggling as best she could to get free.

A deafening crash, and the next thing she knew she was being painfully sandwiched between two layers of wooden boards. Everyone cried out explosively upon the impact of the dead goblin king's body landing on top of them all.

“You've got to be joking,” Dwalin snarled.

There were a few moments of disorientation among the group. It was a Goddamn miracle they survived. Maybe because it happened in the movie, and this was that movie's universe, it was just meant to work out that way, but she had to wonder that if this shit happened in her world she'd be so lucky right now. Probably not.

“ _Gandalf_!” Kili shouted.

Right, the goblins.

“There's too many! We can't fight them,” Dwalin said, looking to Gandalf. Those already freed were helping others that weren't yet. Ira saw a hand thrust in her face, and she reached out to grab hold. It pulled her out of the wreckage.

“Only one thing will save us now; daylight. Come on! Here, on your feet,” Gandalf yelled, pulling the last of the dwarves up.

Almost there, almost there, she thought over and over again in her head as they ran. Everything hurt right now. Her vision was starting to get a little fuzzy, and she sheathed her sword, afraid she'd simply drop it by forgetting it was in her hand. They all ran after Gandalf as he lead the way, the outraged cries of the goblins following them.

The exit burst into sight ahead of them, a bright opening in the mountain side. She smiled seeing it. They were practically home free.

Suddenly she remembered Bilbo. This was where he saw them running by. Just before the exit she spotted the narrow pathway on her left where he must be hiding. Ira staggered to a stop in front of it, dwarves swerving around her to make it by. She scanned the room beyond, but couldn't see him. Of course, she thought, he has the Ring on.

“Ira, come quickly!” Gandalf barked, gesturing for her to keep going. She did.

Freedom. Oh, sweet God, they were outside again. The air was fresh, and she couldn't hear any more goblins.

They kept running though. Down the hill and into the pine trees. Her feet slid a bit in the dirt at the fast pace of their descent, and she tripped over a rock more than once. Luckily she didn't land flat on her face. She thought Bilbo ought to be right behind them now, but she didn't look back.

Slowly, hopping over rocks and fallen branches, they came to a stop. Gandalf was doing a headcount of the dwarves, and Ira fell down on her hands and knees, panting and trembling.

There was blood on her hands, she noticed now. She had just escaped a gruesome death, and she'd killed goblins to do it. Granted she didn't feel as bad about it after nearly being raped, but at its core she had still taken a life.

Lives.

Ira promptly threw up where she was crouched on the ground.

“Oh, lass...” Balin said quietly, coming up beside her while she dry heaved again. Bile dribbled down her chin, and she went to wipe it away but was overtaken with another painful spasm. Balin leaned down to sweep her hair to the side and out of the way, rubbing her back gently.

“Ira...” she heard Fili breathe, and he dropped to his knees beside her. Ira wasn't sure if she was done hurling so she didn't raise her head. She felt tentative fingers skimming over places where the goblins had torn her clothes and clawed her.

“Miss Ira?” she then heard Ori worriedly say. She glanced over and saw his feet shuffling nervously. Two more pairs of boots joined him, and she looked up to see Bofur and Kili flank Ori.

“Ugh, sorry,” she said, her voice rough after throwing her guts up. She sat back on her heels, and wiped her mouth with a forearm relatively free of blood. “I'm fine, guys, really. Frankly I'm just happy to be alive right now.”

Ira tried to smile up at them, but even she could tell how full of shit she must have looked. She felt her bottom lip tremble, and she bit it hard to keep from crying.

“Where's Bilbo?” Gandalf asked suddenly. “Where is our hobbit?”

Everyone looked around them, but Bilbo wasn't to be found.

“Where is our hobbit?!” Gandalf asked again, louder this time.

“Curse that half-ling!” Dwalin griped. Ira couldn't help shooting him a nasty look. “Now he's lost? I thought he was with Dori.”

“Don't blame me!” Dori cried.

“Well, where did you last see him?” Gandalf asked, softer than his tone before.

“I think I saw'em slip away when they first cornered us,” Nori said.

“What happened exactly?” Gandalf asked. Then he looked to her. “Tell me!”

“I'll tell you what happened,” Thorin started, striding up next to Dwalin. “Master Baggins saw his chance, and he took it,” he said, gesturing with a pointed finger back towards where the Shire apparently was.

“He's thought of nothing but his soft bed, and his warm hearth since first he stepped out his front door. We will not be seeing our hobbit again. He is long gone.”

Ira pursed her lips, but said nothing. Bilbo was supposed to have a moment after this, and she wouldn't spoil it for him. She couldn't help but clench her fists, though.

“Nope,” a light voice said, and everyone looked up to see Bilbo standing there next to the tree he must have been hiding behind. “He isn't.”

“Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf chuckled, looking relieved. “I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life.”

Ira stood up on shaky legs, and rushed at him.

“Bilbo!” she cried, actually pretty happy to see him again, too. She fell to her knees, which hurt a lot, ow, and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Oh, uh,” he stuttered bashfully, switching between hugging her back or patting her shoulder in a friendly manner. He didn't seem like he knew which one to really pick. “Yes, that's me. Hello.”

Ira let go of him, and shuffled back to give him room. She wanted everyone to be able to see him clearly when it came time.

“How on Earth did you get passed the goblins?” Fili asked.

“How, indeed?” Dwalin intoned more suspiciously.

Bilbo looked between everyone as they stared at him, waiting for an answer. He seemed at a loss for words. Finally he just pointed at Dwalin and chuckled, like he'd made a bad joke but was laughing at it anyways, just to be polite. Ira, and Gandalf she was sure, even though she wasn't looking at him, watched Bilbo pocket the Ring in a nonchalant manner.

“Well, what does it matter?” Gandalf said lightly, nodding. “He's back.”

“It matters,” Thorin spoke quietly, looking to Bilbo. Then in a louder, firmer tone he said, “I want to know. Why did you come back?”

Bilbo stared over at Thorin, not saying anything. Not blinking. She guessed he was gathering courage or resolve as the silence stretched on, and then he started.

“Look, I know you doubt me. I know – I know you always have,” he began, and Ira remembered when they left Rivendell. Remembered the moment at the mountain side. “And you're right, I often think of Bag End.”

Bilbo shrugged, like he couldn't help but think of home.

“I miss my books. And my arm chair, and my garden. See, that's where I belong,” Bilbo said, pointing. “That's home. And that's why I came back. Because you don't have one. A home. It was _taken_ from you. But I will help you take it back if I can,” he finished, nodding, utterly sincere.

Thorin's expression was the softest right now she'd ever seen it, and it was awesome to see. He glanced down briefly at the ground, and then back up at Bilbo, nodding once in acceptance. Ira could see this meant a lot to all the dwarves, not just Thorin, as everyone looked at Bilbo in a new light. Bofur, when she glanced at him, smiled at her and nodded.

Then, of course, came the howls of the wargs.

Fucking fuck this was the longest day of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have read, re-read, altered, edited, and reshaped this chapter so many times I think I'm just going to have to face the fact that I am unable to be happy with it. Hm. I do hope you enjoyed it, though. We've only got one more chapter before part 1 of this series is over, and we're into Desolation of Smaug territory.
> 
> P.S. I hope the combat in this chapter made sense.


	24. Being Done Does Not Equal Being Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More movie-events in this chapter, ahoy~.

Ira wanted to be so done with this shit. She was the most exhausted she'd ever been in her life. Her legs trembled where she stood, everyone looking up and around as the howls came over the trees again. The sun was setting fast. And she hurt. God, she hurt so much. All over her body, it was just a battle of pain, depending on how she moved, and which part lit up her brain.

“Out of the frying pan...” Thorin breathed, backing up and holding his weapon at the ready.

“And into the fire. Run!”

Everyone turned tail and ran as Gandalf said. Ira couldn't help uttering a pitiful whine, just willing her legs to keep going. It didn't take long before she could hear the sound of their paws thundering against the ground joining in with the barks, and she was too afraid to look back and see how close they were getting.

Near the front with Bilbo they both jumped down from a tall rock, and a second later the first warg to catch up to the party leapt over and ahead of them. It slid to a stop and turned, barring its teeth. Growling, it advanced slowly.

“Oh, God. Oh no, no,” she whimpered, backtracking away from it. The very first fear since she had woken up in Middle Earth was standing right there in front of her. It was _huge_. Easily the same size as a friggin' horse, and she imagined she must look like a nice chew toy right now.

The warg snarled and jumped, but it wasn't aiming for her. Bilbo staggered back, trying to get away, and drew his sword just in time for the beast to impale its skull on it. The others had run by them while Bilbo had been busy with his warg.

“C'mon,” Ira breathed, tugging on his arm. He stared at his sword sticking out of the warg's head with wide, shocked eyes. “Bilbo, your sword. We have to go!”

Further on up the dwarves trotted to a stop as they came to the edge of the cliff. Ira helped Bilbo pull Sting out of the dead warg with a sickening squelch, and they sprinted to catch up.

“Up into the trees,” Gandalf yelled. “All of you! Come on, climb.”

All around her dwarves were jumping up and catching on to branches, pulling themselves higher into the pine trees. She paced around hurriedly, looking for a branch she thought she could start climbing on. When she didn't see one she tried jumping, but she couldn't jump nearly as high as the others to reach.

“Fucking shit,” she swore, frustrated. “This is so fucked.”

“Ira, climb!” Bofur shouted down at her.

“I'm trying!” she yelled back, frantic now. Going up to another tree she grasped at the trunk, trying to dig her nails into the bark and climb that way, but it just tore away under her fingernails, and her toes slid over the trunk back down to the ground.

There was a hand gripping her wrist all of a sudden, and she was hauled up to the nearest branch. Her shoulder burst into a fire of pain again, but she focused on swinging her legs around to get better purchase and follow the dwarf up above her higher into the tree.

Wargs were directly below them now when she felt she could finally look down. Surrounded, she watched as they circled the trunks of their trees, their eyes glowing yellow with reflected moonlight. Tearing her eyes away from them she glanced around her to the rest of the company, because screw knowing what's going to happen anymore, she needed to _see_ they were alright.

Down on the ground things quieted all of a sudden, and looking below her she saw all the wargs facing the same direction as Azog came into view, mounted on his own white monster.

Until now the wargs had just been some vague threat rolling around in the back of her brain, like knowing there was a chance you could get into a car accident going to the grocery store or something, but Azog had his own little space in the corner, too. His spot wasn't as big as his pet rabid dogs, though. He was a main baddie, and she might as well have been a faceless bystander for all he'd really care. Still, actually seeing him in the flesh, all she could think about was how she really wanted him to stop coming closer.

He spoke then in that rough, growl-y language of his. She couldn't remember what he was saying, and definitely didn't understand it now as it was being said. Azog locked his eyes directly with Thorin while he spoke, and she looked between the two restlessly.

He pointed his weapon at them, then swung it over his head, yelling something that made the wargs charge.

They ran and jumped at the base of the trees, snapping their jaws and snarling. The lowest branches cracked and broke as they pounced, trying to climb up. Others used their claws. The pine tree shook and shuddered under her as the wargs kept trying to get at them.

Her attention completely on the wargs, it startled her when the tree on over fell, crashing into the one she was in. It began leaning, creaking, as it started to fall too, and she saw the dwarves in the pines beside her hopping or swinging from branch to branch, trying to get to the next safest place.

Ira followed at a more sedate pace, too unsure of her footing, and too afraid she would simply fall because she missed the branch she was aiming for. She was one of the last ones to make it to the tree growing on the very end of the cliff.

She was so over this. She really was. Everything at this point was such bullshit, and beside the fear and the panic was anger.

Ira ripped a giant pine cone from her tree branch, and moved her way over to shove it under Gandalf's nose. “Light it on fire,” she snapped. 

He gave her a look she didn't bother processing, but he did set it on fire. She busied herself picking more pine cones to hand him, and he began passing them out among the others to toss down at the wargs.

The grass at the bottom of their tree was catching fire fast. The ones with lit cones were helping to light anyone else's that wasn't smoking yet, so she stopped monkeying about the tree to settle next to Bifur and follow suit. Yelps and howls echoed out as the wargs ran away from the blaze they were making.

Their tree lurched suddenly, and she dropped her last fire cone to keep from falling off her branch. The world started tilting, and she looked over to see the roots of their tree ripping out of the ground as they all slowly fell over the edge of the cliff. Ira clung to her branch as they all hung suspended over a very, very long drop. She could only bear to glance down for a second because looking at it gave her the feeling like she'd already fallen, and it made her sort of dizzy.

“Mr. Gandalf!” Dori yelled. Ira turned just in time to watch Ori snatch and cling to Dori's foot.

Then Dori lost his grip on the tree, too.

Ira cried out, she couldn't help it, even as Gandalf reached out with his staff, and Dori caught hold of the end. The two of them dangled in mid air, and she could hear Dori grunting with the effort to keep from falling again.

“Don't let go, guys. Hold on. Please, hold on,” she babbled. Her and a few others.

Someone was raising their voice; Dwalin and Balin, from the sounds of it. Ira turned her head to look towards where the commotion was coming from, and saw Thorin was up on his feet with his sword drawn. He was ignoring them both and strode down the trunk of the tree towards Azog. 

There was an opening in the wall of fire, and Thorin charged through it. Lifting Orcrist up high he shouted, running right at Azog like an idiot. Ira couldn't tear her eyes away as he closed the gap between them, and watched as Azog's warg leapt off its perch, knocking Thorin down on his back.

She watched him scream as the white warg dug its teeth into him as he lay on the ground. And being so unused to seeing Thorin - stoic, jackass, capable Thorin - injured and crying out in pain made tears run down her face.

Dwalin shouted his name again, and made to climb off his branch and down the tree, but it broke under him, and he was forced to cling to it or fall.

Azog's warg lifted Thorin securely in its mouth, and he screamed again. Bringing his sword up Thorin slashed at the warg's snout, and it tossed him away onto a rock, snarling. Azog looked down his nose at Thorin sprawled out on that rock, and muttered in that guttural language of his to the orc on his left.

The orc dismounted his warg and advanced slowly. Probably relishing his victory, and thank fucking God that was a thing with bad guys, because if they just got on with it then they would actually get shit done.

Thorin simply lay there, utterly unmoving, and this was the cornerstone for Bilbo. She glanced over at him, and saw he was on his feet on the trunk of the tree, staring ahead with his sword in hand. Ira bit her lip to force herself from screwing this moment up. She wanted to shout for Thorin to move, to get up, but she didn't. This was for Bilbo.

The orc was over Thorin now, lofting his blade for the killing blow. Orcrist was of course out of reach, no matter how many times he tried to grab for it where he lay.

And then Bilbo shot forward like a bullet.

Yelling fiercely, Bilbo ran and jumped at the orc, tackling him down to the ground, and Ira burst out laughing seeing that. Totally inappropriate reaction, but her nerves were frayed beyond limit at this point. Bilbo and the orc wrestled for all of a second before he stabbed him several times with Sting.

The orc screamed, dying, and Bilbo stumbled back up to his feet, standing between Thorin and Azog.

More orcs on wargs flanked their leader, and Bilbo, bless his hobbit soul, swung his sword through the air a few times to try and warn them away. Azog growled something, and his ugly friends prowled closer. Bilbo shifted away from them a little, but held Sting pointed towards them all the same.

Yeah. Go big or go home, she thought, making up her mind.

She'd lost it a long time ago when she woke up here anyways, so whatever.

And she was _so_ done with this shit now. _Seriously_.

Ira clambered off her branch to the trunk, and drew her sword. She breathed in deep, once, and steeled herself for a last ditch effort to run. Right into a mob of orcs and their wargs.

When she yelled her voice cracked, but other voices joined her, and she knew her friends were right behind her. They ran together, and the moment she was close enough she threw her weight into swinging her sword down on a warg's face.

She felt the blade catch in its muzzle. It yelped, shook its head, and dislodged her sword. The orc riding it snarled, swinging his mace at her. Ira leaned back at the last second, and she felt the very end of it graze her shoulder pauldron. The force of that little bit of contact was still enough to make her stumble sideways. After a moment of being wrong footed she turned her body back towards her orc, who had abandoned his mount, and tucked her sword into her side. As he pulled his mace back for another swing she thrust her blade out and up into his stomach. He screeched before backpedaling away from her, dropping his weapon to cover the gouge she'd made with both his hands.

It was just like in the caverns with the goblins again. Everyone around her was yelling as they fought. She heard clangs and crunches. The wargs snarled or whined if they were hit. Orcs bellowed and screeched. The cliff was a whirlwind of action and noise. She couldn't focus on it much, though, since the orc in front of her was still alive, and he was _pissed_ now.

He roared, and ignoring his injured belly he rushed right at her. Ira clumsily dodged by stepping to the side, but he was ready for her this time, and followed her movement. She didn't even see his hands dart out to grasp her neck.

There was a fleeting moment where, as he squeezed her throat, she couldn't feel how much this had to have hurt. More than anything she felt the fear because, hello, she's up close and personal with a Goddamn _orc_ right now, and she frantically whacked at the side of his head with her sword. Anything to just _get him off her_.

She only got in a couple pathetic swats before it was like someone had flipped a switch on because _oh_ yeah, there it hurts. It hurts a lot now, and she couldn't breathe again. She thought she could feel her muscles bunching and popping alarmingly as she swallowed reflexively, but her throat wasn't working right and ow _ow OW THAT HURTS_ **IT HURTS** \- 

Ira didn't have anything left. His ugly face blurred as tears filled her eyes, and she dropped her sword to pry uselessly at his fingers. The orc stepped forward into her personal space, looming over her, and she tried to back away, but he held her in place by her neck.

“Ira, _no_!” she dimly heard Fili yell. Moments later he must have attacked the orc attached to her since she suddenly found herself crumpling to the ground.

Ira coughed violently, trying to take in gulps of air while drooling all over herself and swallowing several times at once. Her brain couldn't figure out how to prioritize which should come first. Her pulse throbbed painfully in her head, and when she looked up to see what the hell had happened spots were dancing in her vision, making it hard to tell exactly what was going on. At least she thought she saw both Fili and Kili slashing the shit out of the orc that had been choking her.

Harsh shrieks rang out above the noise of the fighting.

As muddled as her brain was, right now any awful noise was Bad News, so she went to reach for her sword where she had dropped it. Her arms were shaking horribly with the effort to just prop herself up, and the sounds on the cliff were dimming for some reason. Ira watched her own hand moving towards the handle of her sword, and she wondered if she'd ever really manage to grip it because it seemed a lot further away than it should have been.

Then she blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's officially the end of part 1 of this series! I know that there's still the escape on the eagles, but to me it made a lot more sense to end it here. Thank you everyone who gave this fic a chance.


End file.
